


As the Crow Flies

by Wilding_Prism



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:23:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 66
Words: 235,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wilding_Prism/pseuds/Wilding_Prism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Female rogue Trevelyan with a twist to her family background. The story of how an Antivan Crow becomes the Herald of Andraste and falls reluctantly in love with the Commander of the Inquisition. Will Catlyn ever be able to let down her guard and open herself up for love?</p>
<p>While I love Bioware and think they did a tremendous job on DA once again, I couldn't help but feel inspired to add my own twist to some of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking up in Haven

**Author's Note:**

> Flashbacks setting the scene for her personal history.

The only light came from a small candle that flickered on the bedside table beside her. Catlyn inhaled deeply and sighed, rolling over to face the light and take in her surroundings. She was in a small cabin room, with a wooden desk tucked away beside the door. Her travel clothes had been laid out on the desk but as she reached down to her belt, she could feel the daggers by her hip. At least they left me that much, she thought to herself. That’s a start.

Catlyn ran a hand over her face and pinched the bridge of her nose, a motion she frequently did when tense. The events of the past days had exhausted her. As she gathered herself upright and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her muscles protested any movement and she muffled back a scream. The pain in her left hand burned like a thousand fires as she fought back a wave of nausea that threatened to wash over her. She turned her palm upward and stared at the swirling green lights floating below the skin’s surface just above the small, pale, heart-shaped mark she carried on her wrist ever since she was a baby. Not a dream, she thought miserably to herself. A spasm wracked her left leg. What I wouldn’t give for some arbour blessing tea right now, she wished.

The door creaked open and a small servant came into the cabin, nearly falling over herself in surprise as she saw the young woman sitting up in bed. She dropped the tray she was carrying with a resounding crash. 

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” she apologized profusely, dropping to her knees. The elf looked as though she had seen a spirit. Maybe she had, Catlyn thought sullenly.

However, the look of fear in the girl’s eyes troubled Catlyn. “Don’t worry, I-“ she began as the girl cut her off mid-sentence.

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant. You are back in Haven, my lady,” the girl rambled on, not meeting Catlyn’s eyes. “They say you saved us, the breach stopped growing just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

Catlyn looked down again at the mark on her hand. A wave of relief washed over her. “Then the danger is over.” Maybe they’ll let me go now, she let herself hope for a moment.

“The breach is still in the sky, but that’s what they say.” The servant got back up to her feet. “I’m sure Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve awakened. She said at once.”

“And where is she?”

“In the chantry with the Lord Chancellor. At once!” the elf cried. With that, the wild-eyed girl took off and Catlyn was once again alone.

She sighed and knelt over with her arms resting on her legs. She was certain the seeker would have further questions of her. It was all everyone seemed to have. Questions, but no answers. Questions, but no acceptance, only mistrust of the Crow who fell out of the sky. 

_“Why were you at the Conclave?” The seeker’s harsh tone ripped into her, frustration and disbelief pouring out of her as Catlyn replied the exact same thing she had ten times before, word for word._

_“I was sent along with my guildmaster as representative for the Antivan Crows, by request from Divine Justinia.” ___

_The seeker’s contempt was palpitable as she snorted in response. “And what would Divine Justinia need from the foreign league of assassins?” ___

_Catlyn was used to foreigners’ views of the Crows. Very few people outside Antiva understood the formidable assassin’s league that controlled most of the political game in the country. That their power and reputation for honour and commitment was so grossly misunderstood by most Thedosians came as no surprise to her. Her mother had made sure she learned what the world thought of her adopted country and customs, as was the way of scholars such as her. She also knew what few others did about the origins of the Crows- that they were rooted within the Chantry itself. ___

_“Divine Justinia understood the Game as well as any other,” she replied evenly. “She recognized the importance of bringing all players to the table when discussing peace. That everyone needed to hear the same message.” Catlyn smirked. “You can’t broker peace without knowing and understanding how the two sides can attack each other, disrupt things just enough to shake the very foundation of the peace she was trying to broker.” ___

_The woman eyed her carefully, acutely aware that her answer remained precisely the same one that she had given before. Catlyn was nothing if not deliberate. ___

_Still, the seeker remained skeptical. “And what would mages and Templars want with assassins? They have more than enough weapons each to kill each other with without any help.” ___

_Catlyn’s brown eyes glowed back at the Seeker, flickers of light shining like the sun in them. “Ah, but Seeker, who truly gains from this war?” she smiled shrewdly. “There are many noble families who thrive in times of war. For some, peace is unwelcome. But one wrong move, one mage attacked, one Knight-Commander struck down and-“she snapped her fingers loudly-“the peace is shattered once more. For once, even the Chantry was thinking broadly and wanted everyone to appreciate that this game needed to come to an end.” ___

She had rehearsed those lines in her head so many times with Gaspar they were committed to memory forever. He had been reluctant to travel to the Conclave, unsure of what to expect at the site of such a large gathering of hostile forces that typically did not view the Crows as welcome company. He wanted to make sure that should any of the tides turn that they were well prepared for the suspicion they may face. He respected Divine Justinia and what the Chantry used to stand for, so her was reluctant to deny the Holy One’s request, but he had misgivings about the undertaking from the start.

Gaspar. Her heart constricted and she fought back a sob as the loss of her friend and mentor overcame her. Her guide, her protector, had gone in the instant she…

She what? Try as she might, Catlyn could not remember a moment from the Conclave, aside from running away from the hungry little beasts that chased her up a steep hill and towards the outstretched hand of a woman, her face shadowed by the bright light shining behind her.

She clenched her left hand into a fist and stood up. She walked over to the desk where a small jug and basin sat. She poured some water in the basin and scooped it out with her hand, first splashing her face, then taking a deep drink. Her stomach rumbled as it protested its unwelcome fast since being released from her prison cell, what, two days ago now? Three? She had no idea. Even gruel would be welcomed at this point, though the juicy thigh of a druffalo would be heavenly. 

She sighed, knowing that neither would be procured without first leaving her room and braving the faces. The questioning, accusatory faces that had haunted her since waking from the aftermath of the Conclave. She had never felt so persecuted before in her life. All they saw was a killer and perhaps not only because she was the lone survivor from the explosion. One set of eyes in particular seemed to eye her not only with suspicion but disdain. Those honey-coloured eyes that cut through her with all the warmth and compassion of a lion attacking its prey.

_“We lost a lot of good people getting you here. I hope you were worth it.” _Judging by the way he had looked at her, he was positive it wasn’t.__

_“You’re not the only one hoping that,” _she had shot back, offended at the unspoken accusation in his voice.__

_“We’ll see soon enough, won’t we,” _he had replied, his tone unable to mask the doubt he felt, his hand moving to the pommel of his sword. Catlyn wasn’t unnerved by his obvious aggression toward her, having grown accustomed to standing off with heavily armed men through years of training with the Crows. But a part of her seethed at the fact that his feelings likely came from a general sense of moral superiority over he believed was someone no more worthy than a common thug.__

Catlyn looked outside. Dawn had broken. No longer able to ignore the pangs of hunger in her stomach, she left her cabin in search of food, and no doubt the woman who was seeking her already.


	2. Suspicions Run Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's unsure of what to make of the supposed Herald of Andraste. Why does she appear so hostile? And why is everyone so willing to accept an assassin in their midst? Aside from the obvious glaring green mark, that is.

Chapter 2 – Suspicions Run Deep 

The commander looked back down at the latest report he had been handed, brow furrowed. He looked back over to the spymaster who was slowly pacing the opposite length of the war table.

“Are you certain of this?” he asked.

“I’m certain of everything I report,” she replied primly, though he could tell something was bothering her. “It is very difficult to uncover any information at all regarding members of the Antivan Crows,” she continued. “They guard their secrets closely and it is even difficult to ascertain which is true. But rare is there nothing at all on file. Not even a family name. It’s almost as if she didn’t exist, except that it includes a physical description of her which she matches. I can also confirm that their presence was indeed requested by Divine Justinia. I obtained a copy of her writ.” Leliana’s face darkened. “She must have sent it directly, but why, I don’t know. I always managed these requests for her.” The commander could tell she was more troubled by the Divine’s decision to leave her out of her plans.

Cullen looked down once more and glanced through the report. Regardless of what little information they had, the Commander of the Inquisition Forces had very little regard for those people who took coin in exchange for ending someone’s life. Most of the Crows, he thought, were conscripted from young ages, often from alienages or slavers looking to divest of excess stock, and were bred killers. Honour and justice weren’t among the adjectives he would use to describe assassins. How could they ever trust one of their kind? However, his Templar training had taught him not to take everything at face value. Granted, that was mostly because demons could craftily hide themselves as normal mages, and Templars needed to be able to spot abominations. But it proved a useful skill he employed in many other facets of his life as well. In this case, their prisoner had done everything asked of her and shown a willingness to help, despite the shackles in which she had been placed upon her capture, and the lengthy interrogations she had been subjected to by the seeker and spymaster. Perhaps he ought to give her the benefit of the doubt, he mused.

His thoughts were broken as the door to the war council clicked open, echoing into the large chamber. Seeker Pentaghast stepped through the door, followed by the prisoner. He was surprised at her appearance which had changed considerably since her first met her. Her disheveled appearance was replaced with a simple, yet confident demeanour. She wore a green tunic, belted at a small waist, two daggers hanging openly at the curve of her hips. Her tight brown breeches revealed a shapely figure with boots laced up to her knees. Her glossy brown hair was pulled back and up, woven in a simple Antivan style similar to that worn by Ambassador Montilyet. It was an obvious contrast to what could be considered her very non-Antivan features: pale, alabaster skin where the Antivan would have been bronzed; auburn streaks in her hair instead of the more common dark black-brown that was typical of the northern race. Her full lips were pursed like a rosebud and despite the confident way she held her head high, the tenseness in her jaw betrayed her unease. But it was her eyes that had him transfixed. Her high cheekbones accentuated her cat-like eyes that pierced into him as their gaze locked. He could all but feel them boring into his soul, daring him to test her. Clearly the prisoner held similar reservations about him as he did her. He broke his stare as the seeker began introductions, inhaling sharply when he realized he had been holding his breath.

“May I present Cullen Rutherford, leader of the Inquisition Forces,” the seeker nodded in his direction.

Cullen sighed. The mighty forces were currently made up of refugees and a small contingent of Templars who left to follow him. It would take more than that to defend their cause.

“Such as they are,” he replied. “We lost many soldiers in the valley and I fear many more before this is through.” He watched the prisoner as the seeker continued her introductions to the ambassador and spymaster. To his trained eye, her every muscle screamed to flee but she controlled herself with amazing skill and grace. He found his thoughts wandering back to Sister Leliana’s reports. Who are you, exactly, he thought as he took in the sight of what he decided was the most attractive prisoner he had ever held. His thoughts were quickly pulled back to the infernal debate he and the other advisors had been continuing to rehash for days now.

“And I still disagree,” he interjected, coming to the defence of his once-sworn brothers. “The Templars could serve just as well.”

Cassandra sighed in annoyance. “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark-“

“Might destroy us all,” he cut in again. He was no stranger to magic and its powers, having faced some of the worst consequences of its abuse on more than one occasion. “Templars could suppress the breach, weaken it so-“

“Pure speculation.” It was his turn to be cut off as Leliana shot back at him.

He inhaled deeply, trying to maintain his composure, a nagging pain throbbing all too familiarly at the back of his skull. “I was a Templar. I know what they are capable of.” What I am capable of, he thought. Or was, until…

“Unfortunately neither group will speak to us,” the ambassador broke in, hoping to diffuse the situation before growing into the shouting match it had been resulting in every time they attempted to discuss their next course of action. “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition,” she continued.” And you, specifically,” she pointed to the prisoner.

“They still think I’m guilty,” she spoke for the first time since entering the room. Cullen detected a touch of derision in her tone.

“That is not the entirety of it any longer,” Josephine continued. “Some are calling you, an Antivan Crow, the Herald of Andraste. That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy and we, heretics, for harbouring you.”

Cullen’s thoughts drifted again as he considered the weight of the declaration. Herald of Andraste. True, there were rumours that a woman was seen reaching out to their prisoner before she fell out of the Fade. But somehow the commander still found the idea of the divine Andraste choosing a common assassin as her agent of hope and deliverance to be difficult to accept.

“How am I the Herald of Andraste?” the prisoner exclaimed. Cullen quickly focussed on the first sign of weakness in the shell the mysterious woman had encased herself in. Obviously he wasn’t the only one who shared some doubt as to the validity of the claim.

“It’s quite the title, isn’t it,” he said, wanting to lure her out, see what else they could learn about her. “How do you feel about that?”

Her cool gaze fixed on him, any sign of the weakness she had just exposed quickly covered up. “I’m no Herald of anything, particularly Andraste.”

He chuckled in response. Apparently the Chantry’s influence on Antivan assassins was weak. “I’m sure the Chantry would agree.” His smile faltered for a moment as her gaze shone with a new edge, as if she had taken a dagger and driven it through his chest. Maker, why was she so angry with him, he wondered. He didn’t see the other on the receiving end of such malice.

“People are desperate for a sign of hope,” Leliana continued. “For some, you’re that sign.”

“And to others, a symbol of everything that has gone wrong,” added Josephine. He watched as the prisoner smirked and laughed drily, dropping her gaze to the floor.

“So if I wasn’t with the Inquisition…” she let the words hang.

“Let’s be honest, they would have censured us no matter what,” he replied.

“And you not being here isn’t an option,” Seeker Pentaghast added.   
“There is something you can do,” Leliana picked up. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She’s not far and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance would be invaluable.”

“I’ll speak to her, if it could help,” the prisoner offered quickly.

Cullen was surprised at her immediate willingness to help, despite the obvious distrust of the people around her. Is it genuine, he wondered, or perhaps part of a plan she’s formulating to get her out from under our reach. He couldn’t be sure, but so far her actions didn’t indicate that was the case, despite her body language betraying her otherwise.

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you’re there,” he added. If they were going to try and work together, they might as well see how much benefit they could derive from her status as Herald of Andraste. If he had any reservations about her intentions, knowing the seeker would be accompanying her allayed them sufficiently to at least accept her continued participation in their efforts to build the Inquisition and restore order.

They finished discussing the last details of their next move before breaking for the day. Cullen leaned over the war table, studying the field and their options as the other filed out of the room. He looked up just as the prisoner pulled the door behind her, shooting him one last glance from behind her long lashes. He stared as the door closed. Was he mistaken, or did he catch a different look from her as she left the room, more curious than hostile, though still wary? He sighed. Whatever her background, if she could help even a fraction of what they had hoped, it was better than nothing. They could use all the help they could get. Even if it was from some common assassin who fell from the sky.


	3. Oops I did it Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn attempts to extend an olive branch but fails miserably.

Catlyn found herself looking forward to her returns to Haven following her expeditions. Though a markedly smaller setting than she was used to, it was a quaint little village and the Inquisition’s presence was doing much to bolster what it had to offer. Now that she was being treated less as a prisoner and more like a member of the order, she was able to go off and explore more on her own. She discovered the apothecary almost immediately and struck up an easy relationship with Adan, the alchemist who ran the shop, despite his sour disposition. Catlyn was used to dealing with cranky men, having spent much of her time growing up working with a butcher and his apprentices back in Antiva City. He was very pleased when one of her explorations outside of the village uncovered some old notes his master had been working on. They bonded over a shared interest in new and ground-breaking herbology. Catlyn was surprised to find she felt homesick at times and sharing her thoughts on new experiments and research reminded her of the all the hours she spent listening to her mother recount everything she had been working on at the university in Orlais. Though only only had a fraction of her mother’s knowledge, she knew more than most and could tell that the apothecary enjoyed having someone of similar intellect to discuss his research with. She also made a point of collecting any and all herbs she could on her travels, ensuring the supply in Haven was well-stocked in case of an emergency.

She also enjoyed the many evenings she spent mingling with people in the tavern, Varric especially. She appreciated his pragmatic view of the world. He had no airs about him and treated her like a normal person worthy of respect regardless of her background. On top of that, Varric could spin a tale like no other she’d heard and she found herself passing hours by just listening to his stories.

Growing up in a bustling city centre, away from Circles of Magi and Dalish clans, Catlyn had been little exposure to magic. Arcane studies were not among her mother’s interests and thus she had made no effort to encourage Catlyn to study them otherwise. It was perhaps one of the only areas of study where Catlyn was relatively ignorant, all others having been exposed to her by her mother or from the afternoons she spent as a young girl listening to the stories the Revered Mother would indulge the young children who flocked to the Chantry with. While not an overly pious household, Catlyn grew up understanding and respecting Andraste and the institution that was sworn to uphold her beliefs and help those in need. Catlyn enjoyed helping others and she and her mother would often spend time talking to the sisters about simple healing potions they could mix to help those who arrived on their steps in need. Some of her fondest memories were of helping the sisters cultivate the little gardens they grew in their courtyards, relishing in how the tiny seeds she planted and tended would blossom into beautiful greens, capable of bringing comfort and health to even the weakest of men.

Still, it was her ignorance of the arcane that led her to spend some time with the strange elf mage who helped her harness the power in her hand. This mysterious green swirl of light was nothing if not magical and Catlyn felt a desperate need to learn and understand more about what it was, where it came from, and what in Andraste’s name she was to do with it.

She time passed, she got to know her companions well, including her advisors. She wasn’t at all uneasy with Leliana, even though she could tell the spymaster was bothered by the lack of information she held on her. Of anyone, surely the spymaster could appreciate the need to keep secrets. She was also less intimidated by Cassandra, now that they had spent weeks travelling together. In fact, she revelled in how Cassandra and Varric seemed to endlessly spar with one another, almost like an old married couple. Their banter was endlessly entertaining. It was clear they shared some history together, though most of what she had learned thus far was from Varric on the nights he spun tales at the tavern.

She was particularly fond of Josephine and they spent hours sharing their love for their homeland, despite it being adopted in her case. In fact, she felt most comfortable with Josephine despite the noble background and title of ambassador. Josephine understood the Crows and appreciated what they stood for. While she was careful what information she shared with her, knowing it was being fed back to the other advisors, she knew Josephine understood her far better than anyone else. For that, she was grateful. It seemed ever since her arrival, she had been met with wary glances and disapproving stares. She got neither from the ambassador.

Which brought her to Commander Cullen. From the beginning, she could tell their relationship would be difficult. Though no longer sworn to the order, she could feel the Templar simmering beneath his skin. She was no mage, but she shared no love for the soldiers of the Chantry. Sworn to protect, she knew their vows didn’t extend far beyond their immediate duty and even then rumours abound of mage abuse at their hands. Catlyn distrusted them completely, which is why, of all the people in Haven, she avoided him. 

It started out harmlessly enough. In her early days in Haven, her moments were relatively restricted to within the town walls. As the others’ trust in her grew, she ventured out more, mostly to explore beyond the walls and away from prying eyes. At dinner, she most often sat with Josephine and exchanged stories of home or opted to dine at the tavern with Varric. She was never first to arrive at their council meetings and the commander was always being surrounded by soldiers arriving with new reports, being dispatched again with new orders. That they didn’t see eye-to-eye on strategy was perhaps more fabricated than she let on. Somehow the idea that she might agree with his opinion didn’t sit well with her, her own bias growing stronger and unchecked with each passing meeting. She thought she had done a better job at keeping those feelings in check until one day, while riding back from the Hinterlands, Cassandra pulled her aside and chastised her for her actions.

“It has not gone unnoticed that you have grown close with all but one in our circle, Herald,” she began, cutting straight to the point. “I’m beginning to sense it’s not all founded, however. While in council you make the point of choosing the opposing strategy our commander suggests, on the road you almost immediately change course and follow nearly precisely what he recommended.”

Caltyn flushed guiltily, caught off guard that she had been so completely transparent despite her perceived efforts. She remained silent, her last line of defence when truly shaken.

“One wonders why this may be the case. What the cause of this mistrust is,” she added.

Catlyn stared ahead as she rode on the new courser they had acquired from Master Dennett once they had cleared the wolves out from the farmland and built the watchtowers. She swayed slowly from side to side as they walked down a hill, choosing her words carefully in her mind. “While I can appreciate a certain amount of skepticism regarding my intentions following what happened at the Conclave, most people maintained a certain open-mindedness when it came to judging my character.” She pursed her lips in pause. “I didn’t get the impression the Commander shared that similar mindset.”

“Does it have anything to do with his history as a Templar?” Cassandra asked. 

Catlyn stared ahead, lost in the memories of the faces that fought their way into her consciousness. Their indifferent stare, their looks as their turned away from her pleas as she was dragged down the dark alleyway, the way dread filled her stomach as she knew her odds of escaping had all but slipped away. Had it not been for Gaspar… She inhaled sharply as she shook the still-painful memory of her friend’s loss from her mind.

“Templars vow to protect the world from magic. But are they so limited in their duty that they cannot protect society from other threats? Though I suppose they have trouble enough upholding their vow to protect mages,” she laughed bitterly. She had heard enough rumours regarding the mistreatment of mages at the hands of Templars that, coupled with her own bitter experience, left her with a very low opinion regarding the honour of the order.

“I can see you have a certain bias towards Templars,” Cassandra replied. “Though I do not presume to know how this came to be, I would caution you not to let it cloud your judgment unfairly.” She turned her head to look at Catlyn. “It was I who recruited Commander Cullen to the Inquisition. He showed much potential as Knight-Commander of the Templars in Kirkwall. Are you familiar with the events in Kirkwall, Herald?” she asked. Catlyn shook her head in reply. In truth, she had heard some talk, but not much, Only that Knight-Commander Meredith had gone made and turned on the mages, the ones she was meant to protect, before being stopped by her second-in-command and the Champion of Kirkwall.

Pieces started to fall into place.

Maker’s breath. Catlyn suddenly felt very exposed.

“I suggest you spend some time reading about that then, as I see you are so fond of books. Though I caution you against reading any works by certain members of our party.”

Varric, who was riding nearby, chuckled and called out, “Oh come on, Seeker! I didn’t even include the part where you-“

“As I was saying,” Cassandra cut in and continued, “some refresher on your history may be worthwhile. You may recall the roots of the Inquisition lie intertwined with that of the Templars. Commander Cullen has proven himself an honourable, fair man.” Cassandra pulled her mount in front of Catlyn’s and looked straight at her. “It would not do well for the Inquisition to have in-fighting between its ranks.” With that, she spurred on her horse, leaving Catlyn to contemplate her words in silence. Perhaps I’m being no better, she grudgingly admitted to herself. You can’t hold others to a different standard than your own, her mother always used to say, and in this case, she had perhaps judged him as unfairly as he had her.

Varric moved up beside her. “Hey, don’t worry about it Snips,” he reassured her. She smirked at him, smiling inside at his use of nickname. He was forever complaining about how she stopped so often to take snips of some plant or another, though she argued it wasn’t nearly as disruptive as he made it out to be. “I know Curly. He’s a pretty good guy. Always treated people fairly whenever I saw him. Haven’t heard anything else to the contrary. And besides,” he smirked in return, “there are far worse people you could spend time with.” He winked at her and spurred him mount forward, trying to catch up with Cassandra, no doubt to goad her into another round of banter.

Catlyn sighed. Was this “Gang up on the Herald” Day? She supposed there was some truth in what they said and kicked herself for not having better researched both the history of the Inquisition and the background of all her party members. Gaspar had taught her to know her friends well, her enemies better. It was the best way to protect yourself, though even she admitted the idea that the commander was her enemy was a bit extreme. Nonetheless, she vowed to spend some time in the chantry library before doing anything about her companions’ advice. Once they got back to Haven. And once she had a drink.

\---  
The sun shone brightly that day as Catlyn walked out the gates towards where a group of soldiers were practicing, their tall commander standing in the middle giving order and generally commanding those around him in that easy, confident manner of his. She glanced over at the other side of the tents just in time to see Cassandra smile and she walked to meet her challenge on his turf. She took a deep breath as she approached him, straightening herself up and holding her chin high, defying that he try to challenge her. She had spent the last two days reading everything she could on the Inquisition and the events in Kirkwall. She felt armed and reading heading into battle, though admittedly, she was probably more than responsible for her fair share of the tension between them.

She could have sworn she saw surprise register on his face as she approached him. He looked at her and then at the men fighting around him.

“Herald, I did not expect to see you today. I thought you were planning to leave for Val Royeaux by dawn,” he said by way of greeting.

“Commander. Pleasure, as always,” she replied drily. The man actually had the decency to look embarrassed.

“My apologies, my lady, I-“

“I’m not a lady,” Catlyn snorted, cutting him off and sending him stumbling for words once more. Maker, Catlyn cursed herself, don’t be so wretched. You’re here to smooth things over, not make them worse. “My turn to apologize, Commander,” she offered with a small smile. “I am no noble and not accustomed to being addressed in that manner.” She made a mental note of doing a better job at keeping old habits in check.

“Of course, Herald,” he replied. He looked at his feet uncomfortably, an awkward silence filling the space between them. “Was there something I could help you with?” he offered.

What did she want from him, exactly? Catlyn had never been good at putting aside grudges, her stubbornness and pride usually getting in the way. Even her mother would laugh and call her the cutest kitten with the face of a mule. She didn’t even know where to begin and felt very exposed standing in front of the fierce looking commander, his eyes narrowed, searching her for answers. 

“I, ah…” she faltered. “I just wanted to say thank you for organizing the building of the watchtowers in the Hinterlands. I understand they’ve always proved useful in providing advance warning of bandit attacks.” She felt her face flush at the lameness of her statement. After all, she had been the one to negotiate with Bron and mark the locations for the Inquisition. She had also more or less flushed out the gangs of bandits from the Hinterlands so that they wouldn’t bother the farmers and villagers any longer. The directive to build the watchtowers had been an uncontroversial one, everyone agreeing that it was in the best interests to get the horsemaster on their side. The commander had authorized the requisition to have them built, but that was about all. She cursed herself for only having come up with a compliment on his bureaucratic abilities rather than something with more merit.

“Of course. The decision was simple,” he replied. Flustered by her poor attempt, Catlyn’s confidence wavered. “Right. Well then. I’m sure you have a busy day. I’ll leave you to your business.” She nodded her head in salute and turned to leave, but the commander called out to her.

“Herald, before you go, there is something I wish to say.”

Catlyn frozen and slowly turned around, meeting his stern gaze from her lowered lashes. Awkward didn’t seem strong enough to describe the level of discomfort she felt as she wrestled with pride and duty.

He cleared his throat. “I realize we didn’t seem to get off on the right foot. Since the beginning our relationship has been strained. If I did or said something to offend you, I deeply regret that and hope we can put aside our differences and start anew.” His look was tentative, but appeared genuine.

Frozen in place, Catlyn nodded her head in slow agreement, yet her reciprocal apology seemed caught in her throat. Damn my pride to the Void, she cursed herself.

He stared at her, unsure of what to make of her silence. “I fear my knowledge of Antivan culture is weak and my experience with assassins is limited. I am unsure of how to deal with someone of your kind.”

Catlyn stiffened. Did she detect a hint of contempt in his voice? “My ‘kind’, Commander? And what kind is that, precisely?” her tone challenging.

Apprehension clouded his face as his conciliatory tone shifted to a guarded one. “With all due respect, Herald, you are a known member of the Antivan Crows. You are the lone survivor of an event that killed some of the most influential people in Thedas, people many would pay dearly to have disposed of. Your kind of the kind that follows coin wherever it takes them, no matter who gets caught in the process. You’ll forgive my initial distrust.”

Catlyn felt a roaring in her head as the blood rushed through her, filling her with a rage that surprised even her. “What happened at the Conclave was reprehensible and evil in every manner possible. You assume we – that I- would accept any contract without considering its implications, that we would be unable to see beyond our coffers of gold. You forget that the Crows have an interest in keeping order and balance in the world, which doesn’t include blowing up the one decent chance we have at peace and tearing a hole in the sky. You forget we were guests,” she hissed.

It was the commander’s turn to return her words with silence and hostility. Catlyn pushed on. “I am truly sorry that you have been unable to put side any prejudice you might have, unlike your colleagues who judge me based on my actions and not what they assume me to be based on my profession. Yes, Commander, I am paid for what I do. But I don’t accept a single mission that goes against what I believe to be right and just.”

The commander snorted. “How noble of you. And just how is killing unsuspecting people right and just?”

Catlyn barked out a laugh. “Unsuspecting? Every one of the targets I accept is a part of the Game, Commander. They know what the risks are. Taking out a few arrogant, contemptuous lords and ladies who treat commoners like pawns to be pushed around in their little games is hardly a hateful crime. What they do to those who serve them and worse, those who get caught in the crossfire, is worth of punishment. Do not presume to lecture me on honour, ser, for I have more honour in my dagger than they do in their entire being.”

The commander crossed his arms across his chest and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, staring her down. “It appears I am not the only one who holds a bias.”

“Evidently,” she shot in reply, shaking with anger as she spun on her heels and stormed off, ignoring the soldiers who had forgotten their drills momentarily as they watched the scene unfold before them. She also missed the look on the seeker’s face as she stood off to the side, having also watched the scene unfold. 

“Well that didn’t go as planned,” the seeker muttered under her breath. She took off after the young woman, following the storm cloud left in her wake. She caught up to her just inside the town gates. 

“Herald!”

Catlyn stopped when she heard the seeker call after her, though she didn’t turn, her short walk from the training grounds having done nothing to quell her burning anger.

“I see you spoke with the commander. Might I ask what happened?” Cassandra walked around to face her. Catlyn looked up at her guiltily, knowing the seeker couldn’t have been pleased with what she witnessed.

“It’s nothing,” she mumbled, struggling to keep her emotions in check, discouraged by the look of irritation and disappointment her companion flashed at her.

“Do I look blind to you, Herald? What I just witnessed was not nothing. I have seen mabari better behaved than the way you stubborn mules acted.”

Shame burned Catlyn’s cheeks as she suppressed the urge to reply, “He started it,” knowing better than to go there. She had gone over with the intent to smooth things over, knowing how important it was to the Inquisitions’ leaders. 

The truth was that she had grown to respect the other council members greatly and believed in the cause they were working for. She felt proud to be a part of it and even more flattered that they saw her, the Herald of Andraste, as integral to their mission. She didn’t want to disappoint them, didn’t want them to abandon her on account of her poor behaviour and lack of better judgment. She was angriest of all at herself for letting her personal grudges prevent her from fulfilling her responsibilities and clouding her judgment. She had always been quick to react and her mother had been eternally patient in teaching her daughter self-discipline. Gaspar had shown her that emotions can get you killed and had worked with her since she was a young girl, teaching her how to take charge of her feelings and master them so that she showed no weakness. She learned to channel her emotions so that she commanded them, not the other way around. And there, in one instant, standing under the steely gaze of the Commander of the Inquisition, whom she should have treated with respect like any other of the advisors, she totally unravelled. She sunk her shoulders in defeat. She was barely gone from her mother and Gaspar’s side and already she was failing miserably.

“I hadn’t intended for that to happen, Seeker,” she replied feebly. “I read up on Kirkwall and the Inquisition, as you suggested, and was trying to make peace. I just…. I just….” she trailed off. She looked up at the woman who was staring at her with a look not of anger, but of concern on her face. She sighed. “I have personal views on Templars and nobles that I struggle to control. I usually can manage those feelings and I don’t let them cloud my judgment. I’m not sure why I am struggling so much right now,” she admitted.

The seeker, considered her for a moment. “Commander Cullen is neither. I’m not sure I understand.”

“But he was. A Templar, I mean. And his attitude towards me has not been as open as you and the others. Clearly he finds something distasteful about my profession and me as a result.”

Cassandra frowned. “It is true that he holds a certain prejudice, though I suspect it’s the same as most people outside Antiva. Why he is struggling with this, much as you are with your own issues, is a mystery to me. Perhaps he’s fuelled by your continued hostility towards him.” The last comment was barbed with accusation.

Catlyn furrowed her brow, reluctantly agreeing, if only slightly, at the assessment. “I’m sorry Cassandra. I will do better.”

“We have more important things to consider. Like the glaring hole in the sky. It’s time to put aside our petty fighting and work together.” Catlyn nodded her head in agreement. “Let us prepare for the trip to Val Royeaux.” With that, the two women walked off together towards the chantry to prepare for their next mission.


	4. Misplaced Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's skepticism is exposed and he makes a mistake in judgment.

Cullen leaned over the war table, studying the markers dotting the Orlesian territory, considering the next course of action. Requests had been pouring in from all over following the Herald’s recent voyage to Val Royeaux to treat with the Templars. Though the voyage did not go as intended, the visibility of the Herald out in the field had provided interesting results from many Orlesian nobles looking to position themselves favourably with the Inquisition. Though he generally left treating with nobles to Leliana and Josephine, he still liked to keep abreast of their options and positions on all matters, as they were inevitably all intertwined in the Game.

The war room door opened with a clack and Leliana quickly entered, quickly scanning the room and exhaling audibly as she closed it again.

“Good, we’re along,” she said to the two other council members who had gathered for their daily afternoon meeting.

“Well, we are expecting the Herald and Lady Cassandra any moment now,” replied Josephine as she paused from her scribbling to look up curiously at her friend. “Why are you whispering, Leliana? Is something the matter?”

“I wanted to share this with you alone,” she replied and she quickly made her way over to where the two advisors stood. Cullen straightened himself up and she approached, Josephine also moving closer to his side. “This letter came for the Herald. Take a look.” She handed them a sheet of vellum, addressed simply to the Herald.

_Herald- ___

_We recently received your request for a copy of “The Chronicles of Elandra Sutherland’s Fantastical Adventures.” However, you did not specify the edition: the copy published in 7:55 or 9:10. Would you kindly provide us with the correct selection so that we may process your request. ___

_Sincerely, ___

_Lion and the Lamb Books ___

“Oh I love those stories!” exclaimed Josephine. “They are read to every little girl in Antiva, though I suspect elsewhere as well. It’s such a well-written series,” she gushed.

Cullen furrowed his brow. He had seen copies of the book in the Fereldan Circle. They were often read to the young children in the care of the Circle by the senior enchanters before bed. “Why in the world would the Herald be requesting a book of children’s stories?” he wondered out loud, handing back the paper.

Josephine shrugged her shoulders. “It is not uncommon for girls to continue reading them as they get older. I have my copy kept at home in a secure chest. I wouldn’t dream of parting with it. I was, however, unaware of the different editions,” she paused, reflecting to herself. “I wonder if I should check mine and see how it compares to the other.” Her eyes drifted towards the ceiling, momentarily lost in thought before she shrugged. “Maybe she is homesick?”

Cullen considered that for a moment. He supposed she hadn’t exactly meant to leave her home quite so permanently as she had. It seemed harmless to him to request a simple book of fairytales. “Forgive me, Sister, but why the secrecy? It appears a harmless request.”

Leliana’s eyes flickered as she smiled secretly at them. “Ah, but t’is not the request itself that had me interested. I have have verified and these two editions do exist, though the more recent is the one most commonly known. I doubt you could even tell on your own copy which it is, Josie, the edition number is no longer being printed on the copies.” She looked at her colleagues as they continued to watch her with puzzled frowns. “This store does not exist. I also discovered that the message did not come from a bookstore at all, but rather a young farmhand that intercepted one of the Inquisition’s messengers leaving Antiva City. Why would a farmhand deliver a letter on behalf of a bookkeeper? One that does not exist?”

Comprehensive replaced the puzzled looks on their faces as htye began to understand the implications. “It’s a code,” said Cullen. “But what for? And from whom?”

“That is what I would like to find out. I haven’t had any luck tracking down the farmhand again but my messengers are working on it.”

“Seems there is something our Herald wishes to keep private,” Josephine said, her lips pursed. “There is still so much we don’t know about her. Not that we have any reason to distrust her. She has acted honourably since we met. But even Cassandra has said that she has told them very little about her personal life while on the road.”

Cullen snorted. “Are you really surprised? She’s an assassin, for Andraste’s sake. Stealth, shadows, lies- it’s in their nature. She’s obviously plotting something, but what?”

Leliana stared pointedly at him. “I do believe there are some among us who share similar traits and thus far they have been put to very good use, Commander. Not just by the Inquisition, for that matter.”

Cullen flushed, embarrassed at having forgotten that one time ago, Leliana herself had been a bard. Before forming the Inquisition, she was the Divine’s left hand.

Josephine stuttered. “Commander, that judgment is beneath you. While we all recognize that you, for reasons beyond our comprehension, have taken a dislike to the Herald, I strongly urge you to reconsider. Stealth and shadows are the means of assassins, yes, but not necessarily lies. Thus far the Herald has given us no cause to believe that she is deceiving us. Sister Leliana has her watched constantly and, much to our benefit, she chooses to have Lady Cassandra travel with her at all times. She has never reported anything suspicious.”

“Quite the contrary really,” Leliana picked up. “Lady Cassandra reports that the Herald conducts herself with honesty and aplomb, always putting the interests of the Inquisition and her party’s first. We have to reason to doubt her,” she reluctantly admitted.

“But no reason to trust her either,” Cullen interjected, his temper flaring. “An assassin falls out of the sky following the murder of some of the most important persons in all of Thedas and no one finds this suspicious? Am I the only one with some sense?”

Leliana returned his heated glare coolly. “While it remains that we know very little of what happened at the Conclave, and I will be the first to admit frustration in having difficulty uncovering any further information on her past, Lady Cassandra’s report of what happened when the breach was sealed was clear. Most Divine called out to her for help and the Herald clearly interrupted some ritual taking place. She is the victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We cannot hold that against her.” She smirked. “Besides, if you spent even a few minutes in her presence along with a mage, you would see the poor woman knows little to nothing of magic. Her jaw nearly dislocates every time Solas casts a simple barrier. It’s quite amusing really. To think she had anything to do with the creation of the breach is unquestionable.”

“Tell me Commander,” Josephine asked, her voice more calm and reassuring that before, “why do you dislike her so much? You’ve been cynical and negative with respect to her every move from the start. I find it difficult to understand. It is most unlike you to be so close-minded with respect to a person. You were more accepting of a mage- an apostate no less- joining the Inquisition than her and we are all aware of your rather unfortunate history with mages.”

Cullen bristled at their accusations, mostly because of their truth than anything else. He himself even doubted the root of his mistrust and was ashamed to admit that it was in fact his own fault that he had let himself be so blinded and carried away by a preconceived notion of what kind of person she was based on her profession. He had limited exposure to assassins before but knew he had trouble accepting that the moral standards of a person who accepted coin in return for taking people’s lives, people who they had no quarrel with, no justification for wanting them dead, were equal to that of his own.

“If we are to succeed as a power, the Inquisition needs to be the symbol of strength, truth and honour. How can we ever hope to achieve that with an assassin as the forefront of our cause?”

“Commander, do you know who wields power in Antiva?” Josephine asked him, clearly agitated by his attack on her countrymen. “The Crows. And do you know why?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Because their word is their honour. When they make a commitment, they don’t stop until it is fulfilled. And that commands respect. Your opinion of her is unfounded, Commander, and I am frankly disappointed that you can’t see past the surface. Imagine our reaction to you had we let rumours and prejudice guide our opinion of the once broken Templar who had forsaken his vows to join a new cause.”

Josephine’s words stung. Even the diplomat with her carefully selected words and calm, diffusing manner was wrought with him. He was ashamed of his behaviour and knowing the others were too upset him deeply. After everything that had happened at Kinloch, he swore that he would never let his prejudices get away from him again and blind him to the facts of each new circumstance. Kirkwall had been an improvement, but even there he struggled. Knowing that he still couldn’t get passed it completely shook him to the very core.

Leliana broked the awkward silence. “Maybe he just doesn’t like that the Herald hasn’t fallen all over herself like most women are want to do. Do you remember the Marquise Du Rellion’s reaction when we first arrived in Haven? I thought she was going to die of a heart attack when she first laid eyes on him,” she joked, Josephine joining her in stifled giggles.

Cullen flushed and reached his hand behind his neck. He despised being the butt of his female colleagues’ jokes about him and disliked even more the unwanted attention he seemed to garner mostly from noble women wherever he went. “Maker’s breath,” he muttered.

“Truly Commander,” Leliana continued, regaining her poise, “as Lady Cassandra has mentioned to you before, we cannot have open hostility between you and the Herald. It is time you put aside your differences and your preconceived notions of who she may be and see her for the person she is demonstrating she is. Unless she gives us reasonable doubt to believe otherwise, she deserves a fair chance. That being said, I will continue to follow up on the origins of this letter and will report back once I have any news.”

Cullen nodded his head in acknowledgment, his mood still dark from their exchange. I’m hardly alone to blame in this, he sulked to himself. It was not as if she had shown a very open mind to him either. His glower deepened further. What reason does she have to mistrust me? he wondered. She’s openly hostile towards me and yet they still continue to support her. Images of their recent exchange on the training grounds conjured in his mind. The way she glared at him with venom in her eyes… What made him deserving of that?

The door to the chamber opened and the seeker and Herald strode into the room, their appearance suggesting that had only just returned from their travels.

“Lady Cassandra, Herald, welcome back,” Josephine greeted them warmly. “Did you enjoy Val Royeaux?”

“If you consider spending time listening to the relentless chatter of Orlesian nobles dressed to look like mockingjays enjoyable then yes, we were overjoyed,” Cassandra grunted, exhaustion lining her face. “You received the reports. The Templars have abandoned the Chantry. I don’t know what has gotten into Lord Seeker Lucius but I am deeply troubled by it. We need to find out what is going on there.”

“I have my people looking into it already,” replied Leliana.

Cassandra nodded in approval. “Despite the bitter start to the trip, it yielded interesting results. Grand Enchanter Fiona has invited us to Redcliffe to treat with the mages. We also received an invitation to Madam de Fer’s soiree, which, thanks to the Herald, secured us her support with the Inquisition. Oh, and we picked up a rather peculiar and vulgar elf along the way as well.”

“How was Madam de Fer’s soiree? Her events are legendary,” Josephine gushed. “But you had not prepared for such an event! Please Seeker, tell me you stopped in Val Royeaux and acquired appropriate attire,” she looked at the seeker desperately, wishing she had the sense to arrive in something other than travel wear. 

The Herald snorted in response. “Don’t worry Josie. Much to all of our chagrin, Cassandra had us stop and at least get our clothes laundered before showing up on the enchanter’s doorstep.”  
Josephine gripped the war table, nearly doubling over. “Laundered? You had your travel wear laundered, that’s it? Tell me this is a cruel joke, Lady Seeker,” she begged.

“Oh please, Josephine. We were presentable, that’s all that matter,” Cassandra sighed.

Josephine made choking noises as she regained her composure. “Invitations to her events are coveted. This would have been an amazing opportunity to make connections, meet players in the Orlesian nobility circles. You would have never gained approval showing up in common travel cloaks.”

Cullen watched as the Herald rolled her eyes at the ambassador. “Trust me Josie, I would have given anything to switch places with you. I have about as much patience for balls and nobles as you do for spiders.” That was at least an opinion he shared wholeheartedly with her.

Josephine shuddered. “I loathe spiders.”

“Exactly my point,” she smiled in response. “It wasn’t that disastrous Josephine. Despite not earning any points for fashion sense, we gained the grand enchanter’s support and even managed to have a few minor houses pledge their allegiance to the Inquisition. You must be happy with that.”

“Of course, Herald. A successful trip all in all.”

“While you were gone, a letter came for you, Herald.” Leliana approached the woman and handed her the letter they were examining earlier.

“A letter? For me?” Cullen and the others watched her closely as genuine surprise registered on her face. As she read the letter, her raised eyebrows quickly became a frown as recognition seemed to creep into her eyes. When she looked up, four sets of eyes were staring back at her and just as quickly, her face became impassible, unreadable. “Thank you,” she replied. “Will you be needing me for anything else?”

“No, thank you Herald,” Cassandra answered. “I can finish the debrief. See you in the morning.”

She nodded and turned to leave, quietly closing the door behind her.

“She knows who sent that letter,” said Leliana. “You could see it on her face. She hides things well, but this clearly touched her.”

“What are you talking about?” Cassandra demanded.

Leliana quickly filled her in. “I have my people looking into it,” she finished. The seeker nodded her head and continued her debrief of their trip.

Cullen listened absentmindedly as he mulled over the woman’s reaction in his head. She was agitated, that much was clear. Despite everything that had happened earlier, he couldn’t shake his suspicions. Who was this person that was trying to contact her? Was it a threat? Was it a signal telling her to make her next move? What move was that, exactly? What could the Antivan Crows want with the Inquisition? Or, more likely, who was using them to get at the Inquisition? The options were endless. His head was throbbing too much to consider the matter any further. The debrief over, Cullen quickly excused himself in search of some fresh air and the relative quiet of his cabin. If only I could manage a few more hours of sleep, he thought. Perhaps he could think more clearly then. But the nightmares of late that haunted him were getting harder to ignore. Still, he headed back to his bed, hoping for any rest his body would offer him.

\---  
The next morning, Cullen awoke to a banging on his door. “Commander, open the door please.” It was the seeker. What did Lady Cassandra want at this hour? He groaned and shouted “just a minute!” as he swung his legs over the side of his bed. After two failed attempts at sleep, he had finally fallen into a fitful slumber that only served to keep his body from seizing up entirely from exhaustion. He quickly pulled on his underpadding, breastplate and boots, tossing his cloak over his shoulders to shield the cool morning air as he opened his door. Cassandra stood on his doorstep looking visibly agitated. “The Herald is missing,” she blurted out. “No one has seen her since after supper last night. There is no trace of her. No one saw her leave. She left no note but she left her mount.”

Cullen stiffened as all his suspicions came boiling to a head. “She can’t have gotten far then,” he replied, sweeping past her and striding purposefully toward his captains who were huddled closely nearby, deep in conversation. “How did Leliana manage to lose her?” he hissed.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “But I don’t think we should jump to conclusions. With that letter… perhaps there was an abduction?”

“Or perhaps she’s finally given us the slip, along with our plans for the next move. Rylen!” he barked as he reached the huddled men.

“Yes Commander?”

“Have your men sweep the area for any sign of the Herald. If they find her, I want her captured and brought in. With force, if necessary, but alive.”

“Yes ser!”

“Commander, is that really necessary?” Cassandra looked at him sharply. “You assume she has run away. That is not what I implied. There could be-“

“We act first, Seeker. We can’t let her get away. The damage she could do to our efforts could set us back permanently. I will not risk it.”

“The efforts include hers as well, Commander. I won’t assume the worst unless shown otherwise and I am disappointed that you aren’t doing the same. I came here for your help, not for a witch hunt.”

Cullen started to reply when suddenly someone cried out “Over there!” All eyes swung towards where the soldier was pointing. A slender figure was coming out from the path east of the village leading past the lake. It was obvious from the confident stride that it was the Herald. She held what looked to be papers in her hand. Cullen stormed down to meet her, the seeker following close behind.

“Where were you?” he barked at her as they reached each other. He could clearly see her face fall and shock register at his reaction. He silently kicked himself for his poor temper control.  
“Assumed I’d run off, did you?” she accused, her tone dry and eyes narrowed. His face reddened in response.

“We only feared for your safety, Catlyn,” Cassandra cut in, her voice reassuring. “You told no one of your whereabouts and left no note. It’s not like you.”

“It was thoughtless and inconsiderate,” Cullen added, still fuming. He was surprised at the care and sincerity in the seeker’s voice and the familiarity with which she used the woman’s name. He had never used it before himself. Clearly the two women had grown close during their travels together. Regret started to seep into him as he recognized the injustice of his initial reaction. 

The Herald stared at him, anger and hurt visible in her eyes. “I’m very sorry to have worried you, Cassandra. I had trouble sleeping and decided to head out and explore. I had learned earlier than Adan was looking for some lost research notes and thought I would see if I could turn anything up. I also know that wood is becoming scarce and found a good logging site not far from the lake. I plotted it on this map.” She handed her one of the papers she held. “I also assumed I would be back sooner but lost track of time. I’ll be sure to leave a note next time. Though Leliana might want to speak to the shadow she usually has trailing me. It was pretty easy to give him the slip. Late night at the tavern, I’m guessing,” she added with a lopsided grin.

Every word cut into Cullen like a knife. All she was doing was trying to help and he had done nothing but chase shadows and accuse her of abandoning them. It was if he were back at Kinloch Hold again, seeing conspiracies whispered in every corner, distrusting mages simply because of what they were and not for what they had done. Embarrassment and self-loathing swept over him like a wave of nausea.

“That is indeed a fortunate discovery, Catlyn,” Cassandra replied. “I’m relieved to know you’re fine.”

“Thank you for your concern,” the woman replied simply. Then she looked back at Cullen. “Commander, do you recall the day I gave my word that I would assist the Inquisition in any way I can?”

He felt her eyes transfixed on him, yet he could barely return her stare. He numbly nodded his head and looked back at her. “I do.”

“Contrary to what you believe, I don’t lie. I may not reveal everything, but when I say something, I mean it. I choose my words carefully and with purpose. And my word I will defence with my life. You may not trust me but that doesn’t matter. I keep my word for my honour, not yours.” And with that, she walked briskly past him and towards the village.

Cassandra looked at his sternly. “You would do well to follow her example, Commander. You gave us your word you would work with us to further the Inquisition. This includes working with her and anyone else we choose to bring along. She may be a stranger to us yet, but it is clear that she is someone worthy of our respect.” Her voice softened slightly as she continued. “Your actions do nothing but bring shame to yourself and you are a better person than that.” The seeker turned and walked slowly back toward the village.

Cullen let out a frustrated breath and ran his hands through his curls. Why was this so difficult for him? Perhaps the nightmares and pain were taking their toll on him, clouding his judgment. He was mortified at how poorly he reacted. What good was he if he couldn’t even keep his own promises? Cassandra was right. He needed to do better.


	5. Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance encounter leads to a ceasefire.

Whenever she needed to hide, there was always one place she would run to: the Chantry. Not because she was particularly devout but because it offered peace, quiet, and many little alcoves in which she could hide. And think. Despite the Templar presence, she knew the revered mother and sisters would grant her refuge and no Templar had ever dared desecrate the holy place. 

So it was of no surprise to her that, following the events of that morning, she found herself perched on the steps in front of the little alter hidden off the main hall of Haven’s chantry. The sound of silence was welcoming as it allowed her to better listen to her own wild mind argue over its next course of action.

So much had happened since she left home several months ago for the Conclave. She had told her mother that Rinaldo, the butcher for whom she worked, needed an extra set of hands at the slaughterhouse. Her mother agreed, having known the man for many years and her daughter’s presence on some of his longer trips was not uncommon. She was meant to be gone a fortnight. Everything was supposed to have worked out perfectly. Rinaldo was indeed leaving town, though he only needed her for a couple of days. It was the perfect cover for her trip with Gaspar. Her mother knew nothing of her relationship with the Crows and she intended to keep it that way. 

But by now, Rinaldo would have returned without her and her mother would be panicking. Since the events at the Conclave, Catlyn had been too frightened to write home and tell her she was fine. What if someone found her and took her prisoner to get at her or the Inquisition? Catlyn’s imagination had no limits and she couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to her mother, but it hurt her deeply to know that her mother must be worried sick at the sudden and mysterious disappearance of her only child.

But how in Andraste’s name had she found her? The letter was obviously from her. It was her penmanship, her nickname for them. Her mother was the lion, Catlyn the lamb. It was her favourite bedtime story and her mother read it to her every night as a child. The children’s compilation she quoted was her favourite and her mother knew she favoured the old, forgotten version over the newer one for it was scarier and had better drawings. The latest edition had been softened too much, in Catlyn’s opinion.

None of this made any sense. There was no way she could have made the connection. Unless… Damn the Maker. Val Royeaux. The bookkeeper. She hadn’t been able to help herself. When they went to speak with the Templars, she had noticed the little shop and is desperately reminded her of home. Catlyn had grown up loving books and they lived above the bookstore where her mother worked. They could barely afford rent in Antiva City but the kindly old bookkeeper had taken pity on them and allowed them to occupy the tiny space above his store in exchange for reduced wages. There the two of them lived in the dusty rafters of the shop with only a small diamond-shaped window to look out from. There was a small hearth, unused for years, that she and her mother had fixed up with the help of the mason her mother had befriended. Her mother was always befriending people with her effortless charm and intellect. She also saw opportunity even in the darkest of places. It took them no time at all to make the old attic their home. So when she saw the bookstore in Val Royeaux, in a moment of weakness, she eased the pang of homesickness by going in. Therein must have been her undoing.  
Her mother had spent years in Orlais at the university. There wasn’t a bookkeeper she wouldn’t have known. He must have recognized me, she thought. Catlyn resembled her mother so closely people used to joke that she was her mother’s spirit of youth incarnate. He had stumbled on his words at first and stared at her unusually, but she had assumed it had more to do with the mark on her hand than anything else. But he had asked her whether she was familiar with any bookstores in Antiva City, to which she had stupidly replied. She cursed herself for her forthrightness. It was such a natural reflex for her- to tell the truth- but she had spent years trying to restrain herself knowing that it could get her in trouble. Dodge, deflect, divert. Gaspar’s words. Had she forgotten already?

Now, she had a decision to make. To reply, or not. Her heart ached to let her mother know she was alive, to put her mind at ease… but the fear of endangering her gripped her so fiercely, she felt her lungs constrict.

“Herald! My apologies, I didn’t expect to find you here.”

Startled, Catlyn spun around to find the commander standing above her. “Crows aren’t devout either, are they Commander?” she replied drily, though immediately regretted her words as Cassandra’s face flashed in her mind. Make peace, she said…

“That’s not what I meant,” he replied irritably, though his tone belied a fatigue that said his heart wasn’t in it really. “I’ll leave you then,” he turned abruptly to leave.

“No, wait Commander.” She stood up to face him as he stopped, though his back remained to her. “I- I’m sorry. That was poor of me.” Impressed by her own manners, she pressed on. “I was lost in thought and just startled.”

He turned back to look at her. “It is of no moment. I was also looking for a place to lose myself in thought.” He looked at her, apprehension still in his eyes. “Though I had been meaning to speak with you following our… exchange, earlier.”

Catlyn nodded. “I also had hoped to cross paths. It wasn’t my intention to pick a fight with you, Commander, though I realize that’s all I seem to have done as of late.”

“You’re not alone in blame, Herald. I have acted poorly, let my prejudices get in the way of my judgment. I hope you can forgive me.” He looked so sincere standing there in front of her, the honey colour in his eyes flickering in the candlelight.

“Perhaps we can forgive each other and call a truce,” she suggested.

“I would like that,” he replied and laughed. “I think the others might as well.”

Catlyn returned the laugh. “I was just leaving Commander. The space is yours. Good evening.” She walked quickly past him, feeling that given their history it would be best to quit while they were ahead. She left the chantry and stepped outside, shivering and wrapping her cloak around her tightly. She heard laughter coming from the tavern and in response to a growl in her belly, decided to head there for supper. She still wasn’t sure what to do about her mother but felt it could wait another night. Besides, Varric owed her a drink. She had easily killed more bandits than he had back in the Hinterlands and suddenly felt quite a bit in need of some gloating.


	6. Dove in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A midnight encounters yields the most unexpected results so far.

Her face twisted in anguish as the demon clawed at her. “Cullen, please!” she cried out to him. “Help me please!” Her strangled cries cut through his soul as he stood paralyzed, unable to move. He couldn’t even close his eyes to block out the sight of her being torn apart by the monstrous figure hovering behind her. He screamed but no sound came out. Only the sound of the demon ripping her flesh as it cackled murderously filled his head, taunting him, torturing him.

Cullen woke with a start, panting. He gripped his bed sheets, testing out his ability to move. Confident he was awake, he ran his hands over his face and swung his legs over the side of his bed. For the past month the nightmares had been getting more vivid. The scene varied, with the paralysis version being the tamest of them all. They all left him feeling exhausted and haunted. The dark circles that had taken up residence below his eyes had not gone unnoticed by the other advisors, though if they had any concerns they did not raise them with him. He knew the effects of the lyrium withdrawal would be challenging, but nothing could have prepared him for what he was facing now. Still, Maker guide him, after everything he had been through it was worth the risk to be free of its control. To have a chance to lead a normal life. Whatever normal may be, given the events of late.

Resigned to wakefulness, he proceeded to get dressed. Looking at his desk he couldn’t bring himself to face the never-ending paperwork that awaited him, so he decided to go for a walk. He stepped out into the cool night. His breath formed a soft cloud in the air. It was a clear night and the moon, not quite at its fullness, shone like a beacon competing with the green glow of the breach. Instead of walking through the village he decided to wander down near the lake. Though it had frozen over, he enjoyed watching the starlight reflect off its mirrored surface. He came upon a little grove of trees and stopped suddenly, darting behind a tree, having seen a shadow pass up ahead. Unsure whether his dreams may have begun their evolution to hallucinations, he rested his hand on his pommel and carefully poked his head around the tree to see if he could catch a glimpse of the shadow’s source. As his eyes scanned the grove, they landed on a silhouette whirling quickly in the moonlight. A lithe figure was crouching, spinning, lunging at an invisible target. Their movements were quick, agile and fluid and he found himself mesmerized by them. They moved with such grace and ferocity, just like a wildcat stalking and devouring its prey.

Cat. Catlyn. He gasped. It’s the Herald, he thought to himself. Overhead an owl hooted in the darkness. The woman paused for only a second before continuing with her dance, spinning her daggers overhead and down, jumping forward, backwards, lunging down and low. She has near perfect form, he thought to himself. She kept herself small, exploding upon attack but moving quickly to dart away from the invisible assailant. Satisfied that she hadn’t seen him, he turned his body and leaned against the tree to face her, keeping himself hidden from her sight. He was transfixed by her movements. He had never seen her in battle before, settling instead for the stories Varric and the Iron Bull, the Qunari mercenary she recently recruited, regaled gatherers with at the tavern. The Herald was often there, arm resting on the bar, hip jutted to the side, one long leg crossed over the other casually as she tried her best to suppress her mirth as her companions spun tales of her exploits. She rarely added anything to the colourful commentary, save for a few attempts at reigning in the storytellers when their versions strayed a bit too far from the truth for her liking. They had not spoken directly since their truce in the chantry but he had noticed a change in her attitude toward him. She very often sided with him on matters of strategy during their war council sessions and he with her. In fact, for someone with so little experience in battle, she had proven herself exceptionally intuitive and strategic. He had been impressed with her ability to suggest alternatives no one had considered that usually proved the best course of action. He found himself less suspicious of her and more than once he could admit that without her counsel, the situation at hand could have ended drastically differently. He made a mental note to thank the seeker for having set him straight regarding his prejudice. And Josephine as well, though the thought of owing her a favour was less than desirable to him. It would no doubt end with him attending some noble’s ball and being subjected to an endless night of gaggling women trying to sink their talons into him.

He continued to watch her move and stared off into the distance, lost in thought even after she disappeared around the bend. What must she think of all this, he wondered. She had never asked for this attention and at first had even appeared reluctant to be pushed to their forefront of the Inquisition. Though it still seemed she didn’t crave the attention, she appeared more comfortable around her advisors, even being so bold as to respectfully challenge some advice. The reports that came back while she was travelling wrote of the tactfulness with which she dealt with delicate situations and it appeared her diplomacy rivalled even that of the ambassador’s. Perhaps in was the Antivan heritage.

Or was it? He still couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about her told him there was more to her background than they knew. Though much of her mannerisms and expressions were Antivan, she did not look it. You could dress a woman up as a man, but she would still be a woman. Unless of course you were Krem, he shook his head. Likewise, you could put a person in Antivan robes, but an Antivan did that not make. Where was she from, he wondered. So many questions remained including any further information regarding her mysterious letter. As far as Leliana could tell, she had sent no reply. The only bit of information they spymaster had been able to uncover was that the penmanship was that of an Orlesian scholar. University scholars were notorious for their unique penmanship and Leliana confirmed that this came from the University of Orlais. But what did that mean?

Cullen didn’t have time to consider the matter any further as suddenly his legs were knocked out from under him and he fell to the ground. He barely had time to react before being rolled onto his stomach, one arm pulled behind him, effectively pinning him down in place.

“Something interesting, Commander?” He recognized her voice anywhere. “Bit late to be out, no? You never know what could be lurking behind a bush. Or a tree.” The Herald released her grip on his arm and stood up from where she had been kneeling on his back.

“Maker’s beard,” he swore as he stood up, rotating his shoulder. “Was that truly necessary?” he protested.

She looked at him non-committedly and shrugged. “Usually when heavily armoured men are stalking me, I don’t stop to discuss their intentions before taking them down.”

“Evidently,” he muttered. He was in fact truly impressed with how skillfully she had taken him down, He hadn’t even so much as heard the snow crunch beneath her boots as she snuck up behind him.

The two stood in the moonlight, unsure of what to say or do next. Finally, she spoke first.

“What exactly are you doing out here, Commander?” she asked, a puzzled look on her face. “It’s late. Or perhaps early, depending on your point of view,” she grinned lopsidedly at him.

“I was just…” he stammered. “I had trouble sleeping and went for a walk to clear my head. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Enjoying the view perhaps? Though if you were looking for pointers, you needn’t spy, Commander. It’s rude.” Her playful smile took him off guard so much that he blushed. He had been caught red-handed staring and her playful banter was not what he had expected in return. Mere weeks ago she would have accused him of spying in earnest or perhaps plotting to have her thrown back in a cell. He wasn’t sure how to react and he was more surprised to find his instincts telling him to play along.

“If I were looking for ways to get my flank slashed, I’ll know where to look,” he challenged, returning her grin.

He face fell and clouded over. “What do you mean?”

Cullen’s eyes grew wide. Holy Andraste, how her mood changed quickly! He knew some women were temperamental, but she brought it to a whole new level. Not wanting to pick a fight, he quickly explained. “I meant no insult,” he replied, lifting his hands in surrender. “You have remarkable technique. I’m beginning to understand why Varric and the Iron Bull carry on as they do, recounting all your battle victories. You must be formidable in the field.”

Her body visibly relaxed as a bashful expression crept up her face. She looked down at her feet then back up at him through her lashes. “Thank you, Commander. That’s very generous of you, though I assure you there is a fair amount of exaggeration in their tales. But truly, what did you mean when you said my flank was exposed?”

Confident that it was genuine curiosity that provoked her question, Cullen elaborated. “Though you are far quicker than any soldier in full armour, you often stretch yourself up when you spin around for your next attack. It leaves you exposed, even if for a moment, and you do it consistently. Someone watching you could easily gauge your next move and slash your flank, like this.” He drew a line across her ribcage, mimicking the motion.

The Herald’s brow furrowed. “I hadn’t realized I had become so predictable.” She was clearly distraught by the revelation. Not wanting to ruin what little progress they’d made, he quickly continued. “We all form habits, Herald. They can be broken, however, and you need only minor modifications. You just need to make yourself smaller in your spin. Like this.” He demonstrated the move, crouching almost gracefully down around her to threaten her backside. She spun with him, a small grin playing on her lips. He stood up and returned her grin with a bigger smile. “That’s very good. You learn quickly. I’m sure you’ll be unstoppable in no time,” he joked.

The won him a laugh, one that reached her eyes and lit up her face and causing him to catch his breath. He had forgotten just how pretty she was. Most of their time spent together was typically on edge, constantly on guard, waiting for the next attack. He hadn’t bothered to see her as a person for some time now, perhaps ever. He mentally chastised himself for the error. 

“Where did you learn your skill, Herald?” he ventured.

She looked at him, slightly embarrassed. “Please. Enough with the ‘Herald’. I think we’ve known each other long enough to drop the formality. Call me Catlyn.”  
“Alright Catlyn,” he smiled. “Where did you learn how to fight? Was it something they taught you once you joined the Crows?”

Catlyn hesitated. She had never spoken to him before about herself in any way. All he had learned had been through third parties and even then, not much was known. He worried that he had pushed too far too quickly and held his breath, bracing for a rebuke. Instead, she signed and lifted her chin, accepting to divulge a little bit of herself.

“I of course had extensive training with the Crows. My guildmaster saw to that. He trained me even before I joined, though I didn’t realize it at the time.” Cullen was surprised at that. He had assumed she had been with the Crows since she was a child, as many of them were. Furthermore, from what he knew, members of the Crows, their leaders especially, did not train non-members. He made a mental note to investigate that further, should he ever have the chance.

“But it wasn’t really there that I learned in the beginning,” she continued. “I used to work for a butcher back in Antiva City. A way to earn some income. Rinaldo, the butcher, was a good man. He taught me everything I know about the body, how it works, how we move, where our weaknesses are. We think we’re so different from animals but we’re not really. Rinaldo always taught me that a good butcher should know its product inside and out if you were to do your job properly.” She smiled at the memory. “He would take me to the slaughterhouses and show me how the killing was done, how to best bleed a beast without frightening it first. If your beast sees you coming, he will panic. It spoils the meat. It’s no different with humans,” she shrugged. “When I joined the Crows, I took what I had learned with Rinaldo and tested the techniques on my targets. Over time I learned what works best on humans as well.”

Cullen stared in wonder at the woman. He had never heard such a tale before. Typically women in Fereldan were not apprenticed to butchers. If the fact that she had done so had not been impressive enough, he found it remarkable that she spent so much time studying the parallels between animals and humans and had essentially taught herself what some people spent their lifetime training for but never learned.

“That is remarkable to say the least,” he replied.

Catlyn looked away. Even in the moonlight he could see her blushing. Silence filled the air, robbing him of his thoughts.

“There are still a few hours before dawn,” she offered gently. “Perhaps we ought to try and sleep again.”

Cullen nodded and turned to go back to the village, Catlyn falling into step with him. Though he noted she was tall, she still stood a good head shorter than him as she walked by his side.

“You didn’t mention what you were doing out here at this hour.” Cullen cast her a sidelong glance, testing his luck with another question. “Does sleep evade you as well?”

She must have felt the tension in his voice, for she returned his glance with a knowing smile. “Full of questions tonight, are we Commander? For once they sound sincere. Must be a lucky night.”

Cullen cleared his throat, embarrassed to be called out both on his questions and his previous behaviour. He had been suspicious before and she had every right to point that out. Though so had she…

She continued on. “I’m used to moving about in the darkness. Assassins are hardly well-known for carrying out their work in broad daylight. That would defeat the advantage of stealth, wouldn’t you say?” Her tone was soft and joking. “I find I can think clearly at night and prefer to train then as well. I enjoy the peace and serenity of nightfall.”

They stopped by Cullen’s cabin and turned to face each other. Both eyed the other hesitantly, not sure how to part amicably. Both were used to either ignoring each other at the end of a war council session or storming off following a fight.

Catlyn spoke first. “Thank you for the tip, Commander. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m next in the field.”

“Please, call me Cullen,” he rubbed his neck nervously.

She smiled timidly in return and nodded her head. “Goodnight, Cullen,” she turned to leave.

“Goodnight Catlyn,” he replied softly as he watched her slip quietly back through the village gates. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, not realizing that he had been holding his breath the entire time. That must have been a record for the longest time they had gone without resorting to snide remarks or shouting. He found himself replaying the entire exchange in his mind, noting the way she fiddled with the handle of her dagger with her right hand when she appeared nervous or drummed the inside of her palm on the left absently when lost in thought. Though her eyes were bright, when he looked in them he lost himself. As he ducked into his cabin and lay himself down on his bed once more, this time he fell asleep to visions of cat’s eyes watching him from afar.


	7. Cheers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn finally decides what to do about her mother.
> 
> She also gets a schooling in the Commander's past.

“Boss, watch out!”

Catlyn spun around just in time to see a bandit lunge at her with his knives. She dove out of his path and somersaulted before quickly returning to her feet. A thrum of the crossbow jerked the man sideways and Catlyn took advantage of his momentary distraction to swiftly dodge behind him and jump on his back, sheathing her daggers deep into his shoulders. A gurgle escaped the man’s mouth as the body fell to the ground. Behind her she could hear the continued thrum of Varric’s crossbow as it rained down its deadly arrows onto the other nearby enemy. Iron Bull let out a roar as he decapitated one particularly zealous-looking woman. Cassandra grunted beside her.

“That is the last of them- for now,” she said, sheathing her sword. “There will be more, however.”

“Where are they coming from?” Catlyn asked retrieving her dagger from the man’s back. 

“I don’t know.” Cassandra looked concerned. “But we are wasting our time. We should get back to Haven as quickly as possible and brief the others.”

“And miss out on Val Royeaux, Seeker? How could you possibly pass that up.” Varric casually made his way over to where the women stood, examining Bianca along the way.

Cassandra’s look of disapproval was grave. She made a disgusted sound and replied, “I still don’t understand why you agreed to be an errand-runner for Madam de Fer, Herald. Surely there is someone else capable of carrying out her request.”

Catlyn averted the woman’s eyes in an attempt to hide her guilt. Upon the enchanter’s arrival in Haven, Catlyn had spent some time getting to know the woman. She was keen on speaking to a new mage to see what insight she might offer in addition to Solas’s regarding her mark. She enjoyed speaking with her- she was obviously very skilled, not just in magic, but the Game as well. Though Catlyn’s patience sometimes wore thin with the enchanter’s snobbery, on the whole she found her to be a strong ally. 

She also saw an opportunity. She had spent weeks struggling over what to do about her mother. Finally her desire to reach out won her over but she needed to be careful. Any letter she wrote would be intercepted by Leliana’s spies and would confirm the existence of some link. She couldn’t risk any connection being made that way. This left her without any options, until the grand enchanter’s arrival in Haven. Vivienne spoke often of her ties to merchants and nobles in Val Royeaux. One evening as they spent some time together, the enchanter bemoaned the fact that she lacked certain key supplies and garments only available in Val Royeaux. “They are very particular my dear, and I can hardly manage without them. Had I known how poorly provisioned the village would be, I would have made arrangements before I left. It would be wonderful to have them with me.”

Catlyn seized the opportunity, offering to retrieve whatever it was she needed to make her stay more comfortable. Vivienne had protested, not wanting to add yet another burden on her already laden shoulders, but Catlyn politely insisted. Vivienne was delighted and provided her with an extensive list- and the excuse she needed.

Cassandra, of course, had been less than pleased with the diversion. “There are matters far more pressing than procuring foul-smelling perfumes and ridiculous headpieces,” she grumbled when Catlyn had informed her of the slight detour. They had planned to return to the Storm Coast in search of some clues as to the trail of a Grey Warden scouted in the area just recently but were meant to return to Haven immediately to decide whether or not to approach the mages or Templars. Time was growing short and the advisors were anxious to make a decision on the matter. 

“You could always go back to Haven, Cassandra. We won’t be long. You can handle the debrief without us.”

Cassandra sighed, resigned to her predicament. She was not comfortable leaving the Herald on her own in the field, protective both of the young woman and the Inquisition’s greatest asset. “No. I will travel with you. Let’s just get this over with.”

“I’m looking forward to it Boss. The Orlesian brothels are among some of the cleanest, with the dirtiest girls,” Bull grinned wickedly. Catlyn chuckled as Cassandra stormed past them, grunting in disgust.

“We have a long journey ahead. Let’s not waste any time.” They turned and followed the seeker back up the hill to the camp where they had left their mounts and the mysterious Grey Warden journals they had found while scouting the area.  
“I can’t wait to get out of this sodding place,” said Varric, cursing as he wrung out his gloves for the third time that day. “Does it ever stop raining here?”

\---

They arrived late the next day almost at sundown. Catlyn’s anxiety had grown with every league they approached the city. She loathed the Orlesian capital to start with. Not only was it crawling with miserable nobles but the university reminded her sadly of everything her mother had been forced to give up. To make matters worse, she was worried one of her companions would insist on accompanying her and worst of all, that it would be Cassandra.

“You ok Snips?” Varric pulled up beside her, a look of concern on his face. “Your face is as long as a dwarf’s beard, though infinitely better-looking,” he added grinning. 

Catlyn cast him a wary smile. “Just tired, Varric. I’ll be happy just to get this over with and get back out.”

“That makes two of us. The last time I was in Val Royeaux I might have insulted a certain influential noble and would rather not run into him again so soon.”

“You certainly know how to make enemies, Dwarf,” Cassandra volunteered unhelpfully from behind them.

“What can I say Seeker. Not everyone appreciates my charms. I’m like old dwarven ale.”

“Unpleasant?”

“No. An acquired taste,” he replied grinning. “If it’s all the same to you, Cat, I’ll make my way over to the nearest tavern and wait for you there. Less likely to run into Comte de Tight Ass.”

“Count me in too. All these face masks creep me out,” Iron Bill shuddered.

“I will find us accommodations. Something relatively secluded that won’t us having drawing attention, especially given our friend’s unhelpful reputation,” offered Cassandra. “Let us meet at the main pavilion in an hour.”

Catlyn could barely contain her glee. “Truly, you’re all leaving me on this shopping expedition?” she feigned disappointment. “You’ll be missing out on a great opportunity to pick up tips on the latest fashion craze,” she rolled her eyes.

“Somehow we’ll manage,” Cassandra replied drily. “An hour. Pavillion. Please try and get it done this evening. If we could leave at first light, it would be as if we were never here.”

Catlyn nodded her head as she and the other split up, having arrived at the gateway to the city. She quickly made her way to the stables, then towards the merchants’ quarter where she ducked into the first of her locations. She needed to have at least a few people see her carrying about her planned purposes before stepping out a back door and making her way to the bookstore. She hurried through alleys and scaled a few walls in an effort to pass unseen by the Inquisition spies that were likely stationed throughout the city. She didn’t need word of this getting back to Leliana.  
Catlyn held her breath as she reached her destination, praying that he had not closed up shop just yet. It was late and she could already see many shops with darkened windows. She reached for the doorknob and exhaled when it turned and she quietly stepped into the shop. The room was quiet and cozy, the air smelling of ink and old paper. She inhaled deeply. It reminded her or home.

“My apologies,” came an old voice from the back of the shop. “I was about to close for the evening. If you wouldn’t mind returning tomorrow, I would be pleased to assist you.”

Catlyn approached the old stooped figure that had emerged from the back room with his coat on as if on the verge of leaving. “If you please, sir, I wish only to speak with you a moment. I have traveled a long way and must depart again at first light.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied Catlyn approaching him. Recognition dawned quietly on his face. “Ah yes… the Herald of Andraste. It is an honour, your worship. I am humbled that you would choose to seek me out on your travels. You are surely a busy woman.”

Catlyn smiled hesitantly at him. Could she trust him? She had come all this way but was suddenly gripped with fear. What if he spoke of her visit? What if someone saw her come here and interrogated him? Her secret would never survive, he was too frail. Catlyn fought back the panic she felt rising in her stomach. She took a deep breath. This was her best chance, maybe her only one. Maker help me, she prayed.

“I wondered, sir, if you were familiar with the Libreria Antiva in Antiva City?” She hoped that the old bookkeeper recognized the name of the bookstore where her mother worked. If he had truly made the connection before, he should understand what she was asking of him now.

He searched her face and gazed at her thoughtfully. “I am indeed familiar with the store. The owner is an old friend of mine and his shopkeeper was a colleague of mine years ago when I worked at the university library. A remarkable woman who did not deserve her fate, sadly,” he shook his head apologetically.

Catlyn’s heart surged. So it was him, she thought. “I wondered if I could impose upon you to relay a message. There are many eyes who watch me and in these times it is difficult to know which ones are benevolent and which would see harm come to myself and the Inquisition. You would do me a great service if you could relay something. It can’t be seen to come from me- I seek to protect the recipient from any harm that may be destined for me.” Catlyn paused, hoping the man wouldn’t press her any further nor ask too many questions.

He nodded his head. “I would be honoured to help a friend.”

Catlyn’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. Could you please request a copy of Elandra Sutherland’s Fantastical Adventures, the 7:55 edition? Just say a client passing through wanted a copy.”

“Of course, your worship. Would you wish me to send you the copy to Haven once it arrives?”

Catlyn shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. It never will.” She smiled at the old man. “Thank you very much. I shall not forget your kindness, nor your discretion.”

He nodded his head again in understanding. Catlyn politely bowed her head goodbye and turned to leave the store. As she reached the door, the old man spoke once more.

“It may interest you to know that the shopkeeper was very interested in hearing that the Herald of Andraste had passed through this way. It seems she had very limited knowledge regarding the Herald’s travels as of late, despite word travelling quickly of your exploits.”

Guilt gripped Catlyn as she imagined her mother’s confused face reading the letter he must have sent her. What is she doing alive and halfway across Thedas as the Herald of Andraste, she must be thinking. The thought of her mother realizing that her daughter had been keeping secrets from her felt like a burning knife twisting in her belly. She had never meant to hurt her mother, to have her lose trust in her. She prayed that one day she would get the chance to explain. She thanked the bookkeeper once more before slipping out into the darkness, thankful for nightfall. She doubled back, retracing her steps to the merchant’s quarter which was mercifully open later than most other districts on the off-chance that some marquis or comtesse needed a last minute wardrobe adjustment before a grande soiree. She picked up the last items on Vivienne’s list and quickly made her way to the pavilion where her companions awaited her.

“You’re late,” Cassandra greeted her with a frosty stare.

“Apologies, Seeker. They haggle worse than the fishmongers back in Antiva City. Besides, I successfully got every item on the very long list, so we can leave first thing in the morning.”

Cassandra grunted. “Well that’s something at least. Let us retire then to the inn so we can leave early.”

The others agreed, all eager to be rid of the snake pit that was the Orlesian capital.

\---

They were no more than ten leagues form Val Royeaux when the skies opened up in the most torrential downpour any of them had encountered. Within an hour the roads turned into a quagmire making it virtually impossible for their mounts to make it through. After a second horse nearly broke its leg getting stuck in the mud, Cassandra reluctantly led them to a nearby inn to ride out the storm.

“Andraste’s tits, I thought we left the Storm Coast a few days ago. Did we just do a giant circle?” Varric swore as he wrung out his travel cloak on the inn’s floor. “For a seeker, your sense of direction is horrible.”

Cassandra glowered at him as she emptied a puddle onto the ground from her boot. “We’ll wait here until the rain stops. Then we press on,” she replied flatly.

“Could be worse places. At least there’s a tavern here,” Iron Bull smiled happily, slinging his axe over his shoulder and heading for the bar.

“I like your thinking Bull,” Varric smiled joining him at the counter.

Cassandra exhaled with frustration. “I’m going to see if there is a way to get a message back to Haven. We weren’t expecting this setback and they may begin to worry. With this weather, it could take days to dry out the roads long enough for us to continue.”

Catlyn nodded as Cassandra walked over to speak with the innkeeper. She decided to join her male companions for a drink.

“What’ll it be Boss? An ale? Some mead? It’s on me,” Bull greeted her cheerfully at the bar. 

“Have any Antivan Sip-Sip?” she smiled as she swung up on the stool beside the two men.

“Oooh, the good stuff hey. That’ll put some hair on your chest.”

“I may need it. Anything to keep me warm after having spent the past few hours in that mess.”

“Naw, hairy chest wouldn’t suit you Boss. Skin’s too pretty for that,” he winked at her suggestively. Catlyn laughed, unfettered by his salacious remark.

The three companions fell into an easy chatter, laughing about how Varric seemed to leave trouble in his wake wherever he went and arguing over who slew the most darkspawn back on the Storm Coast. Soon enough Varric was regaling them with the stories of his various exploits in Kirkwall in the company of the Champion.

“You seem to have a thing for strong women leaders Varric,” Catlyn teased.

Varric shrugged. “If I’m going to follow someone, might as well enjoy the view.” He raised his goblet in salute.

Catlyn smiled. She felt completely at ease among these men and they reminded her of being back home with Gaspar and his crew. She shook the memory from her mind, still finding the loss too hard to cope with. Instead she let her mind wander to the other men she had encountered since then. One in particular continued to invade her thoughts. Though they had spent practically no time alone together since she had caught him spying on her that night, she couldn’t help but feel like it might have been the beginning of a change between them. She no longer felt the irrational anger toward him that plagued their relationship from the start. She wouldn’t necessarily call them friendly, but she at least no longer felt animosity as she did before. Cassandra’s warning had no doubt had something to do with that, as did her growing sense of responsibility toward the Inquisition. If this mark on her hand could be in any way the key to solving the problem she vowed to do everything she could to help. This included playing nice with all the advisors.

As Varric spoke of Kirkwall, Catlyn remembered that Cullen had been there during the mage uprising along with the dwarf. She wondered whether Varris might shed any light onto the inner workings on the Inquisition’s commander.

“Varric, did you have much to do with Commander Cullen when you were in Kirkwall?” she asked.

“Curly? Yeah, we crossed paths a few times while I was with the Champion. He had the unenviable position of being second-in-command to that loose nug Meredith. I think he spent most of his time cleaning up her messes and trying to keep order despite everything going on.”

“What happened, exactly? I mean, I have a general idea of what happened, but I’m not really sure how he fit in.”

Varric sat back on his stool and leaned against the bar. “Well, if you boil it down to one thing, I’d say our fearless commander’s better sense of moral judgment led to the saving of the entire Templar order in Kirkwall, not to mention the mages who were under their protection. When Meredith was about to execute the Champion and send the entire Circle to the Void, he stood up in their defence and did what Templars were supposed to be doing all along. Protecting the mages.”

Catlyn considered her friend’s words carefully. “So you respect him then?”

Varric snorted. “Respect him? I do more than that. The world would be a better place if there were more people in power like Curly.”

Catlyn looked down in her glass and she took in the weight of her friend’s words. Perhaps her prejudices had been even more unfounded than she originally thought.

“What’s eating at you Kitty Cat?” 

Catlyn sighed. “I think I’ve acted poorly Varric. More than that. I let old grudges blind me and ruin what might have been a good relationship.”

“Bah, don’t worry about it Cat,” he waved his hand dismissively. “Curly’s nothing if not a gentleman. He can forgive too. I know you two didn’t exactly hit it off, Maker only knows why. Don’t beat yourself up over it. We all make mistakes. Doesn’t mean we can’t learn from them and move on. And besides,” Varric paused to knock back the rest of his drink, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. My guess is that he’s already forgiven you a long time ago.”

Catlyn spluttered as she turned a bright shade of pink. “What do you mean?”

“You’re a hot piece of ass Boss,” Bull volunteered. “Don’t think we’re the only ones around the war table who have noticed.”

Catlyn made choking noises as her face reddened even further. Composing herself, she muttered, “I’m going to need another drink.”

“Good idea!” Bull clapped her on the back, nearly sending her across the counter. “Bartender! Another round. This time make it something strong. Got any Alvarados?”

“Holy Andraste Bull, I need to be able to walk again!”

“Not anytime soon you won’t. Look at that rain. It hasn’t let up once. We’re in for a long stay. Might as well enjoy ourselves.”

Catlyn suspected her sense of enjoyment varied considerably from that of her companion’s, but nonetheless picked up her glass and saluted them as the rain continued to pour down on the little inn.


	8. Hiddden Talents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Herald's influence on the Inquisition comes in many different ways. Some less expected than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight tweak on Dorian’s timeline. I wanted him in Haven earlier than their departure to treat with Alexius. 
> 
> Also- everyone knows that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

As weeks stretched into months, the general mood of the Inquisition leaders became testier as they made relatively little progress in developing a plan to close the breach. They could find precious little additional information on what triggered the explosion at the Conclave. They also remained at an impasse with respect to approaching the mages or Templars for help. The Herald’s recent voyage to Redcliffe to pursue the invitation made by Grand Enchanter Fiona had brought mixed results. The fact that the mages had been recruited by a Tevinter magister altered their plans considerably. However, the Herald had successfully convinced an elf healer in the village to move to the Crossroads to help refugees, which brought a boost in support for the Inquisition among the locals. She also recruited another alchemist, a Tranquil by the name of Clemence, which Adan seemed grateful for. Though both the healer and the alchemist were positive fallouts of her visit, the price of the assistance of the mages was what they had sought and her voyage brought them nowhere closer to a resolution.

It also brought them the addition of a Tevinter mage to their party, which left Cullen on edge. Dorian of House Pavus had insisted on accompanying the Herald back to Haven, though why she had agreed to it was beyond him. She even seemed to genuinely enjoy the man’s company, which baffled Cullen even more. He was everything she seemed to abhor in the world: arrogant, boastful, and noble, with an opinion so inflated of himself he was surprised he even fit through the village gates. Still, since his arrival the two seemed inseparable, or at least to Cullen it did. He wasn’t sure why that seemed to bother him so much. The Herald was entitled to spend as much time with anyone she chose, yet still he found a tiny seed of resentment growing every time she smiled affectionately at the mage or shared some inside joke with him.

The supper bells began to ring, announcing the evening meal. Cullen was relieved to have an excuse to set down the papers he was going over, looking for any excuse to delay replying to yet another Orlesian noble who requested his presence at yet another ball. He could think of no worse way to spend his time.

As he walked up the stairs towards the chantry where the advisors and the Herald’s companions typically took their meal, he was joined by the very person he had rued showing up following the Redcliffe excursion.

“Commander, what a pleasant surprise. Heading over for dinner? Might I join you, I promised Catlyn I would meet her there,” he announced more than asked.

A small knot twisted in Cullen’s stomach at Dorian’s casual use of the Herald’s name, something he had only recently earned the right to use, and at how he casually mentioned his prior commitment to meet her for dinner.

“Good evening, Dorian. A pleasure, as always,” he replied, hoping he didn’t sound too glib.

“Indeed. My presence has undoubtedly enhanced the surroundings,” he replied. “I daresay Commander, I am impressed at how well you’ve managed to convert the farm hands and disgruntled Templars into a semblance of an army. They may even be able to defend the village from the next snowstorm.”

Cullen bristled at the insult, squeezing the top of his pommel head in irritation. “I would rather take someone who would stand for what they believed in than a host of slaves forced into submission,” replied icily.

“Touché, Commander. May I?” he gestured grandly as he opened the Chantry door for the commander, following him in.

“Dorian, wait up!” Catlyn jogged up to catch him as he passed through the door.

“Darling! Good to see you. I was just on my way to meet you. My your cheeks are flushed. Busy stirring up trouble were you? No don’t tell me, I’m already hurt that I wasn’t a part of it.” The grin she returned him was even bigger than his.

“Bull was teaching me some new take down moves. I don’t think he quite expected me to learn as quickly, but on my last try I caught him by surprise and flattened him.” He smug satisfaction grew even deeper as she added, “I think he’ll have a bruise in the morning.”

“You were wrestling with that hulk?” Cullen’s look of incredulity earned him a deep, carefree laugh as she turned to look at him.

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall Commander. It’s no fun practicing on easy targets. That’s not how you prepare for battle. Surely someone of your prowess in battle would understand that,” she winked at him. “Perhaps you’d care to try?”

Images of he and the Herald wrestling flooded his vision and none were displeasing in the least. In fact, they were so appealing, he found himself flushing in response.

“Now that’s something worth watching!” Dorian exclaimed. “You would of course have to strip down to your breeches Commander. After all, if the Iron Bull is the man to beat, you could hardly do it wearing anything else. The man struts around wearing practically nothing but a loin cloth,” Dorian goaded him, smiling wickedly at the now scarlet-faced commander.

Cullen reached for the back of his beck and cleared his throat. “If you are quite finished, I believe dinner is being served.”

Catlyn chuckled and fell into step beside him as he turned to walk down the hall. “Come on Dorian, that’s enough teasing for one day. You know our lion wouldn’t dare be seen without his mane, so I believe your dreams have come to a bittersweet end.”

“Oh he could keep that on. Might add to the fun,” the mage replied.

Cullen grunted in irritation. He didn’t enjoy being the butt of the Tevinter’s jokes, especially when he involved the Herald. 

The trio entered the dining hall and Cullen was disappointed to see that the only seats remaining were together. As he rounded the table to take a seat beside Varric, he felt the Herald’s hand rest on his arm as she leaned in closely to him, concern in place of the mischievous grin that had been on her face just a moment before. “We were only joking, Commander,” she looked at him apologetically.

Cullen forced a small smile. “It is of no consequence, Herald.” He added, “Besides, I could take him- no matter what I wore.” His smile widened as her face lit back up again, evidently relieved that she hadn’t accidentally upset their truce. It brought him some comfort to know that she seemed to genuinely care about rebuilding their relationship.

Once everyone was seated, the meal was served. As the diners all settled into their meals, they were startled to hear a disgusted groan come from the Herald. She pushed aside her plate. “I can’t stand it anymore,” she declared, standing up from the table. She hesitated, realizing that all eyes were on her questioningly.

“What’s up Snips? I mean, I know it’s roasted druffalo again, but it sure beats field rations,” Varric pointed out.

Catlyn blushed, obviously surprised that no one shared her reaction. “Of course, I’m thankful for a warm meal,” she backpedalled quickly, not wanting to sound ungrateful, “but it’s just all wrong.” She looked back at the blank expressions that continued to stare at her. “Do none of you understand what I mean? The meat. It’s all wrong.”

“I don’t know Cat, tastes alright to me,” Varric offered. “Sure, it’s as tough as leather, but I think we’ve all come to expect that. The flavour is good.”

“Yes the taste is fine,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively, “but meat should not resemble boiled leather.” She stabbed at her meat with her fork in demonstration. “It’s about time this got fixed.” With that, she left the table and headed toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Cullen asked, puzzled.

She turned and stared at him as if addressing a small child. “To the kitchen.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “Ah, I wouldn’t, if I were you. The chef has a notorious temper and is rather territorial when it comes to his kitchen,” he warned.

“He’s right Snips. I heard he scared an apprentice so badly that they couldn’t even look at a potato without resorting to tears,” Varric added.

Catlyn tossed her head and lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m not scared of some cleaver-wielding amateur,” she replied, marching toward the door.

Dorian looked at Varric and grinned. “Ten silvers say she lasts ten minutes.”

“You’re on,” the dwarf replied, his grin even wider than the mage’s.

Cassandra rolled her eyes in exasperation and muttered something under her breath as Cullen dug into his meal and smiled. Moments later, the room fell silent as they heard a crash followed by a roar. Several more loud bangs followed, then silence. The diners all sat transfixed, waiting for someone or something to come flying out from the kitchen. Suddenly a raucous laughter filled the air and the tension in the room broke. What in the Maker’s name was going on in there, they wondered?

“Pay up dwarf,” Dorian smiled smugly at Varric who returned the look with a resigned laugh.

“Should someone check on them?” Cassandra asked. “She could be dead for all we know.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Seeker,” Dorian replied, continuing with his meal. “I believe you would be disappointed to find them only cooking.”

The others chuckled as the sounds from the kitchen remained mute and the doors closed. Cullen smiled to himself as he shook his head slowly. The Herald was truly a wonder to behold.

\---

Varric let out an enormous belch. Josephine shot him a look of pure revulsion and pushed herself away from the table, though not before surreptitiously slipping the last morsel of meat from her plate and into her mouth.

“Pardon me,” he sighed and patted his belly. “I haven’t eaten that well in months,” he added, managing somewhat to look embarrassed.

“I can’t get over what an immediate change there has been.” Cullen felt a slight tightness in his belt, having just finished off his second plate of the night, a rarity for him. “Remind me again what the Herald said to the chef?”

Varric laughed and shook his head, still having a hard time believing the rumours. Catlyn refused to divulge the choice words they exchanged, claiming that was passed between them was no one else’s business. Nonetheless, the kitchen help started gossiping almost as soon as the initial shouting took place as some of the unlucky workers who had been caught in the crossfire fled the scene.

“I believe ‘tasteless amateur’ and ‘glorified hack’ were among the few compliments that were offered.”

“And she actually emerged unscathed? From what I heard, he was even thanking her,” Cullen shook his head in amazement. “He’s threatened to castrate people for less.”

“That’s what I heard Commander.”

The men laughed before Cullen pushed himself away from the table, politely excusing himself. As he left the Chantry, he was immediately swarmed with messengers delivering Sister Leliana’s latest reports and his own soldiers reporting in on various missions he had authorized. He was contemplating how depressing his work-filled afternoon appeared when he spotted the Herald coming down the path, presumably from the apothecary’s where she was known to spend quite a bit of time.

“Herald!” Cullen raised his arm, indicating he wished to speak to her. She slowed as he caught up with her, leaving several missives waiting in his wake.

He smiled as he approached her, noticing that her eyes were bright and lively, giving him the sense she had just received some good news. “You’re looking well,” he greeted her. “Good tidings?”

Her smile simply radiated excitement and delight. His breath caught slightly as the look of sheer joy she gave him caused butterflies to fly about fitfully in his stomach. The feeling surprised him, as it had done on several occasions as of late.

“Adan and I are on the verge of a breakthrough with respect to an antidote for a deadly poison that has no known cure,” she gushed. “His colleague had been working on it prior to the Conclave. You’ll recall I recovered his notes from him.” A stab of guilt forced Cullen back to reality. He had just all but openly accused her of running off with Inquisition secrets when she had returned from that particular venture. He preferred to forget about that exchange and didn’t like bringing something up that might remind her of it as well. Luckily, she seemed to engrossed in her discovery that she seemed not to notice, or at least pretended not to care.

“The notes referred to the ingredients he believed were the key to producing the antivenom: prophet’s laurel, spindleweed, and royal elfroot. Adan was fortunate enough to have a small supply of prophet’s laurel but was low on spindleweed and had no royal elfroot. I picked up a bunch of spindleweed from the Storm Coast and happened across a small crop of royal elfroot while slaying some bears in the Hinterlands.” Culle noticed that she was practically vibrating with excitement. “What he struggled with was the form in which to administer it. I, however, suspected that in this case a simple infusion or extract would be unsufficient as spindleweed in its unadulterated form can be quite toxic. But if you heat the extract slightly, kind of like a diffusion, you separate the toxins and retain only the desirable properties. It’s a new technique, not widely known. I explained it to Adan and he’s been working on it these past few days. I think we’ve made a breakthrough!” she clasped the notes she was holding to her chest in glee.

Cullen stared at her, mesmerized. He had not the faintest idea where this knowledge or passion came from, but he could tell it held a special place near to her heart. He was touched that she had chosen to share this little insight with him, though a darker side of him argued that it could have just been happenstance that he was the first person she spoke to following her discovery. He pushed the thought away, choosing to believe that their truce was now a genuine peace.

“Sounds promising. And useful,” he added, smiling.

Suddenly aware of how carried away she had gotten, she bashfully averted her eyes and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry Commander. I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to me carry on about potions.” She looked up at him through thick lashes, embarrassment colouring her cheeks.

“That’s quite alright. I can appreciate a breakthrough and what it means,” Cullen replied, returning her smile in earnest. She smiled shyly at him.

“Was there something you needed? You seemed to want to speak to me before,” she eyed him curiously.

Cullen shook his head, tearing his eyes away from her for a moment. He had been unconsciously memorizing her features, the way the sun caught flecks of gold in her eyes and made them shine like jewels. “Ah, actually, I just wanted to thank you for your intervention last night. Whatever you said or did in the kitchen had an instantaneous effect on the quality of the meals. My steak today barely required a knife. What exactly did you do?” he looked at her quizzically.

Catlyn smiled, obviously pleased with herself. “As I said, he was doing it all wrong. You don’t work for years with a butcher and not pick up a thing or two. He has an exceptional palate, which made up for the fact that the meat itself was improperly cooked. He was using the wrong cuts for the wrong type of meal. You can’t cook a flank without tenderizing it first and if you stew a loin, you’ll wreck it.” She shrugged. “Nothing complicated.”

Complicated enough for him, he thought. He had never cooked a day in his life, having had older sisters who took over the household chores. After he left to join the Templars, meals were always prepared and served for them. “But how did you get him to listen? He’s the most stubborn clever-wielding man I’ve ever met.”

Catlyn grinned mischievously as she coyly looked up at him. “Why Commander, don’t you know? Not everyone is so resistant to my charm.” 

With that she winked at him and sauntered off to her cabin, leaving him open-mouthed and blushing behind her. “Perhaps not as resistant as you think,” he whispered under his breath as he made his way back down to the training grounds.


	9. Family Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn finally comes face to face with the source of her anger and exposes a part of her past that she had wanted to keep private. Thank goodness for besties.

Catlyn felt herself grow cold as the blood rushed from her head.

“You’re certain of this?” she asked Josephine after she finished the report. She and the rest of the council members, as well as Dorian who had insisted on tagging along, had met for their daily session. The news the ambassador brought felt like a ball of cold rage exploding inside her chest.

“Very much so, your Worship. Though I’m uncertain as to why you didn’t mention this connection before,” she added, sounding slightly hurt. “The Trevelyans are a very well-positioned and respected noble house in the Free Marches. The support they could offer the Inquisition could prove invaluable, especially if what they claim is true.”

“Surely they would be willing to support their family, given their reputation for staunchly defending their noble line,” Cassandra offered.

“They are no family of mine,” Catlyn whispered, her voice cold and trembling with rage.

Dorian folded his arms and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “My my, this is a testy subject. I can hardly blame you for wanting to sever ties with a group of arrogant, xenophobic fools. I abhor my own family for much the same reason.”

Catlyn’s eyes remained transfixed on the war table, her hands gripping the edge. How dare they, she thought. How dare she… after everything she and her mother had been through. How did she even know? Who could have told her? Surely not her mother. She had gone to great lengths to protect Catlyn from them. Unless maybe they had her…

“If these allegations are false, Herald,” Cullen started hesitantly, “there are ways to silence them. The Inquisition can denounce them publicly. Our reputation has evolved enough to carry enough weight to make this go away. We can have messengers leave within the hour.”

Catlyn inhaled deeply, having made a decision. There was only one way to deal with this. She never ran from a problem. If this was the game they wanted to play, Catlyn was ready to join. And win.

“There will be no need for messengers, Commander. I will be leaving at first light and will deal with this myself.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “Do you think it wise to do so? What if it’s some sort of trap…”

“I can handle it myself, Commander. Alone.” Her tone indicated the finality of her decision.

“I must object, Herald. These are dangerous times to be travelling unescorted.”

“Oh she won’t be alone, Commander. I’m going along.” Dorian flashed her a winning smile as she spun to face him, missing the commander’s look of irritation that flashed across his face.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Dorian.”

“Of course you don’t. Even if you did, it certainly wouldn’t be me. I have no patience to spend my time watching over someone and preventing them from making a total fool of themselves. As a friend, however, I can’t let you show up unescorted in that viper’s pit. Your lack of experience in handling these situations and your obvious emotional instability over this issue will have you end up dead." He folded his arms and smirked at her, "In case you had forgotten, we still need you to close that massive hole in the sky.”

Catlyn pouted, displeased at having anyone tag along, but grudgingly accepted his point. She nodded her head reluctantly in acceptance. Having Dorian there as support may not be such a bad thing.

“Fine. But that’s it.”

“Not likely, Herald. I will also be accompanying you,” Cassandra stated, her tone equally as definitive as Catlyn’s.

Catlyn threw up her hands in exasperation. “Doesn’t what I want matter at all? This is my problem. I. Will. Handle. It.”

“It is the Inquisition which matters most and what is important is your safety. I will not have you travelling across Thedas without some form of protection,” the Seeker argued.

“I can protect myself,” Catlyn mumbled petulantly. “Besides, it appears that I will have a certain Tevinter mage at my side who is known for his prowess in battle.”

“Among other things,” he added smiling.

“Though I do not doubt Lord Pavus’s ability to fight, we have seen all too often how dangerous the roads can be. If we happen across a rift-“

“I will close it,” Catlyn countered, cutting the woman off.

Cassandra returned her icy glare and continued. “You could easily be surrounded by any manner of demon. The risk is too great for only two people to bear.”

“Why don’t you just gather up an entire contingent of troops and march to their doorstep with me? Make a statement.” Catlyn rolled her eyes sarcastically.

“It’s not a horrible idea, Herald,” Cullen offered. “It would guarantee your safety while walking into a situation we don’t completely understand. I’m sure there are diplomatic benefits to such an approach,” he added, looking hopefully at Josephine who remained silently neutral throughout the argument. The look that Catlyn shot him was of pure venom, so he quickly backtracked. “Or perhaps stealth is the best way. Leliana? Thoughts?”

Leliana stood with her arms cross, sizing the situation. “We have many scouts positioned along the road to the Free Marches. None have reported back any unusual or threatening activity to date. They can increase their presence along the Herald’s path and send reports back of any suspicious movements. As for her arrival at the Trevelyan estate, their game has always been purely political. Traps and attacks have never been their weapon of choice. No doubt Lady Trevelyan has seen an opportunity worth seizing and is making these heritage claims for her benefit. I do agree that she should not go alone but a small party should suffice. Take one more person along with you, Herald.”

Catlyn’s disapproval was palpitable and though it appeared from her demeanor she was planning a series of assassinations of her own, she exhaled sharply and slunk her shoulder in defeat. “Fine. One more. I’ll take Bull. Are we done here?” Without waiting for an answer, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

What was she thinking, hoping for any privacy on this matter? If there was one thing she had learned early on in this adventure was that any sense of normalcy or privacy had disappeared, much like everyone at the Conclave. Her thoughts now turned to how she could at least salvage some protection around the part of her life she had worked so hard to shield from prying eyes.

Catlyn made her way quickly towards the tavern where she usually found Iron Bull and his Chargers. They were indeed there, practicing some moves as she walked briskly up to them.

“Bull, we leave in the morning. Just you. Be ready at first light.” She issued her request like a command, in no mood for idle chat.

“Sure Boss. Everything alright? You look like you just found out you have to greet another noble.”

“Something like that,” she muttered. “Just be ready at the gates before sunrise. We have a long journey ahead.” She turned to leave but stopped. “And Bull?”

“Yeah Boss?”

“Bring your new maul. The ugly-looking one. And don’t clean it,” she added before stomping off.

Iron Bull’s face split into a wicked grin. “Sure thing Boss!” he called out after her.

Catlyn returned to her cabin in search of a particular item she would need on her trip. There was not much she had salvaged following the Conclave and what little she had on her person had been confiscated by the Seeker’s men. However, she had a few hidden pockets sewn into her small clothes where she kept several items too valuable to her to be left behind anywhere. As she shrugged off her vest and wiggled out of her tunic, she reached into her undershirt and pulled out a small, folded parchment that Gaspar had given her before leaving for the Conclave. She unfolded it, carefully reviewing the elegantly scripted terms of the contract. Satisfied it was safe, she folded it back up and returned it to its safe place close to her heart. She had always wondered when the opportunity might arise to use the information it held and despite her anger from earlier, she found herself eagerly waiting for the opportunity to use it.

\---

As the high, ivy-covered walls of the mansion came into view, Catlyn was reminded of how poorly the estate was defended. It would be so easy to break in and surprise the woman in her chambers, she mused. How would that be for a surprise, Grandmother.

As her small party approached the main gates, they were met by a guard waiting with a small retinue standing behind him. He greeted them curtly and directed them swiftly to the stables on the inside of the estate walls. A stable hand came to take Catlyn’s reins from her and she held on tight.

“My lady, I am to take your mounts and see that they are well cared for,” he stammered, clearly perplexed at her lack of willingness to pass her steed over to him.

“My mount will remain close to me,” she replied simply. “He will wait by the main doors.”

The stable hand looked to the head guardsman who simply nodded in acceptance of her request. He had been placed under strict orders to treat the Herald of Andraste with the utmost respect and accommodation. Satisfied, he moved out of Catlyn’s path as she led her mount up to the main gates, tying the reins loosely to the stone pillar at the bottom of the grand entry’s stone staircase. She turned to face her companions who had gathered round.

“Let’s keep this short. I don’t want to linger here any longer than we need to. I don’t want to be pulled into any private discussions alone with the woman either, so please don’t let that happen,” she looked at the Seeker pointedly, whom she had appointed her spokeswoman for the meeting. 

“Understood, Herald,” the Seeker replied. 

Catlyn nodded and turned to enter the mansion, her companions following close behind. As they made their way into the great hall, Catlyn’s eyes scanned the room and took in her surroundings. Various noble lords and ladies lined the long red carpet that stretched through the hall, leading up to the dais at the back of the room. Every one of them followed her with their eyes, hushed voices discussing their reactions to the now infamous Herald of Andraste. Their eyes widened as they fell on her green mark, which seemed to glow even stronger with every step she took towards the woman who had invited her here.

“May I present Lady Catlyn Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste.” The room fell silent as Catlyn slowly made her way through the great hall, flanked by Dorian and Cassandra and followed by Iron Bull who had his massive maul slung casually over his shoulder. One of the guards had insisted that he remove it and leave it outside, but he had insisted that the only way he would do so would by swiping it at the man’s head first. The guard wisely let Bull pass.

Catlyn’s heart pumped with anger in response to the title. She took slow, deep breaths, helping to steady herself as she approached the woman she had never met but hated her entire life. She had promised Josephine that she would remain as poised and eloquent as possible, but she was struggling to channel her inner diplomat as she stood before the old woman. Lady Guinevere Trevelyan was an impressive looking woman despite her many years. The late Lord Trevelyan had been betrothed to her at a young age and despite having only acquired her name through marriage- although she had come from a minor noble house herself- she ran the family as if she were the ruler from birth. When the lord had passed away many years ago, control had not automatically passed to her son, but rather it remained with her. There wasn’t a decision made that didn’t pass her judgment first, not a single piece of china purchased without her stamp of approval. She played the Game better than most and had a formidable reputation as being severe, calculated, and entirely in control of all affairs that took place surrounding her family and their reputation.

She sat on a dais, looking practically regal in her long, jet black gown and hair pulled severely back into a bun on her head. Her gold-flecked eyes surveyed the party as they approached and her manner clearly gave way that she was the one in charge. Catlyn heart clenched in dismay as she realized she had her grandmother’s eyes.

She rose to greet the party, her arms outstretched in welcome. The act appeared wholly insincere to Catlyn who had to bite her lip to stifle a snort that threatened to come out. “Welcome, honoured guests. It is our pleasure to host members of the Inquisition’s inner circle in our humble home, along with the Herald of Andraste no less,” she began with a grand gesture. “Our halls are at once humbled and heartened to receive you here and bear witness to this momentous occasion for House Trevelyan.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Catlyn had asked Cassandra to handle the introductions, promising to jump in only if necessary. “Thank you for your invitation, my lady. These are troubling times and the Inquisition would seek as many allies as we can to restore order and keep the peace,” Cassandra began. “The rumours regarding the familial links between your house and the Herald of Andraste were of particular interest to us in this respect.”

“Ah, but they are not rumours at all, Lady Pentaghast, but truth that was until recently buried deep within my dear son’s grave. Following the death of my son, Willam Trevelyan, may Andraste guide his soul,” she paused dramatically, hand at her heart, which only served to infuriate Catlyn further, “we uncovered a set of correspondence between my son and a scholar he met while studying at the University of Orlais. My son was a gifted scholar, you see, and was a research professor before returning home to take up his familiar obligations. It seems that during his time at the university, he had relations with an assistant professor, which he chose to hide from us. No doubt it was to protect his family’s reputation, as our noble line can be traced back through the ages without exception. My son was many things, but it appears he had a weakness for scholarly women. I blame myself for his exposure; I should not have left him that long away from home.” Regret was etched in the lines on the woman’s face. “Unfortunately in this case his heart blinded his better judgment and the woman with whom he had relations with was exposed as a thief and plagiarist. Ashamed, my son hid the affair from me and returned home, never speaking of it. It is only through the letters we found, letters the woman sent claiming her daughter’s heritage, that my people delved deeper and uncovered the true story. You can imagine my surprise when I was informed that my own granddaughter was the Herald of Andraste.”

A hushed murmur rippled through the hall as revelations stunned the audience. Catlyn stared at the noblewoman, the sound of her own blood rushing through her ears the only one she could make out. Fury roiled in her stomach as she watched the woman blaspheme her mother, twisting the story to meet her ends.

“How remarkable,” Cassandra replied, casting a sidelong glance at Catlyn whose eyes remained transfixed ahead of her. “Surely one must question the claims of a known plagiarist and thief. How were you certain that the woman’s words were true?”

“A valid point, Seeker, and do not think that this did not preoccupy my thoughts.” The Lady Trevelyan narrowed her eyes as she stared at Catlyn, unsure of what to make of her silence. Whether she was expecting to be met with joy at the discovery of her long lost family was unclear, but Catlyn sensed that a suspicious silence was not among the reactions the woman had anticipated. “The purity of the Trevelyan line is indisputable, Seeker, and I went to great pains as any honourable house would do to ensure its integrity. The evidence we gathered was irrefutable. If the Herald would be so kind as to reveal her left wrist to us, we would see the mark of the Trevelyans breeds true.”

Catlyn returned her gaze with an icy one of her own. She felt all eyes turn towards her as she slowly lifted the sleeve up her left arm, turning her arm over and exposing the soft flesh of her wrist for all to see. A small, white, heart-shaped patch, no bigger than a silver, was clearly visible on her skin. 

“An ancient Trevelyan birthmark, as far back as generations go,” the Lady Guinevere explained. “My husband bore it, as did his father and his grandmother before that. It is passed down through the bloodline regardless of gender. My son had it, as does his daughter, from what we can plainly see before us.” Her satisfied smile grew as she held out her hand to Catlyn. “My dear girl, won’t you please join me. Your eyes do so remind me of my son and I long to welcome you into the family.”

Her disingenuous affection was enough to set Catlyn over the edge. She barked a short, bitter laugh. “It was not long ago that you took great pains to ensure your family remained hidden from the world, shamed into a life of poverty and anonymity.”

Lady Trevelyan’s veneer cracked slightly under the accusation. “Forgive me, Herald, for I’m not sure I understand. As I have said, it is only recently that I became aware of the connection. For reasons I will never truly understand, my son chose to hide you from me. From all of us. I can assure you that once I learned of his secrets, I did everything in my power to uncover the truth and reach out to you to have you reclaim your rightful place within our family.”

Catlyn seethed. She still couldn’t figure out how this woman had tracked her down. Her mother never mentioned that she had sent letters to her father. She was so desperate to get away from the woman’s shadow, desperate to start a new life, that any communication she might have had with her father would have risked exposure too greatly. How had she managed to track them down? And how did she know she was at the Conclave- and survived? Regardless, the idea that she belonged in this family made her sick to her stomach.

“I have a family,” she hissed in reply, “and I don’t see a single one of them here before me. I see nothing but a scheming, contemptuous opportunist who did everything she could to ensure that her noble house was not tainted by the unworthiness of a common scholar with no title other than the one that she had worked her entire life to earn. To deserve.”

The woman recoiled slightly, drawing herself together in defence. “You forget yourself, Herald. I will not stand for this dishonour you do my house. Bastard children are not often so readily welcomed with such charity. You would do well to remember that.”

Catlyn’s eyes flared as she took a step forward, pointing at the woman she had spent years dreaming of facing. Her heart raced and her mouth ran dry as she unleashed the full force of her bottled rage. “Don’t you dare play me for some poor little bastard fool without any sense, without any idea of how this game works. You couldn’t bear the thought of your precious Trevelyan name being sullied by a commoner, a woman who happened to have more honour and virtue in her left foot than you do in your entire being. My mother is an exceptionally gifted woman, loved by everyone she ever met. Including your son. He saw her for a warm, dedicated and honourable person, someone worthy of his love, not just his title. The research she was accused of plagiarizing was her own. Anyone at the university could tell you that. But no matter the prestige she would have garnered in the intellectual community, no matter how high she would have risen in the university, she would always be one thing to you- common.” Catlyn snorted, “Though I assure you, she is anything but. Her dimwitted associate professor accused her one day of plagiary and lo and behold, the Council of Deans saw fit to rule in his favour. Funny that,” she laughed, though there was no humour in her tone. “Do you know who sits on the Council, Lady Trevelyan?” The room fell silent as the woman stared back at her silently. Catlyn laughed bitterly. “Of course you do. Several men who owe your family many favours, including your own uncle. My mother lost everything- her reputation, her job, her home, her love. She was forced to leave the university and Val Royeaux and could never find any work within the intellectual community again. Do you know what happened to her spineless, brainless associate professor? The man who couldn’t tell elfroot from deep mushrooms? He earned himself tenure shortly thereafter. How wonderful for him.”

The old woman drew herself up to full height, leaping to her own defence. “I will not stand here and tolerate these insinuations, these lies, in my own house!”

“Lies? No lies, dear grandmother,” Catlyn drawled. She reached into her vest and produced the small parchment she had been carrying with her all these months. “I have here the agreement penned in your own hand, with your seal affixed to it, stating that in return for his unfounded accusations against my mother, he would be granted tenure and all the titles that accompanied that right. You wanted my mother gone as she didn’t suit your vision for a perfect match for your son. Because of you, my mother’s talent, the knowledge she could have developed and shared with the world, wasted away in the slums of Thedas as she was forced into a life of poverty. For who would ever employ a disgraced woman with a bastard child?” Tears finally came unbidden to Catlyn’s eyes, betraying her resolve as she fought back the lump that had suddenly lodged in her throat. “You view of the world as a game for you to play, we commoners pawns to play with and sacrifice as you will. Any person who believes that treatment is acceptable is no family of mine.” With that, Catlyn spun on her heels and stormed out of the great hall, her companions following her close behind, and leaving the Lady Trevelyan open-mouthed and gaping at the space she had just left. 

As she reached the outdoors, Catlyn sprinted to her mount she had insisted they leave tethered at the gates and leapt on, galloping off down the road toward home. She heard Dorian call after her and curse, he and the others scrambling to reach their mounts they had left in the stable to catch up with her.

She rode nonstop until nightfall, her rage fuelling her will to run away, to put as much space between her and her secret as she could. She finally stopped, exhausted, on a peak overlooking a small lake. Smoke curled up from chimneys down at the water’s edge, indicating the presence of a small village. Catlyn dismounted and stood, too numb to feel anything but exhaustion. All the anger she had built up from a young girl, all the bitterness and resentment she had felt through the years, erupted from within with such force that she let out an anguished cry, causing the nearby birds to take off in fright. She buried her face in her hands, sobbing, barely noticing that the others had finally caught up to her. She felt a strong body behind her and collapsed in Dorian’s chest as he gently turned her towards him. Her held her gently in his arms, stroking her head as her body heaved in despair, muttering soft words as he nestled his face in her hair. 

“There there darling, it’s all over now. You will never have to go back,” he whispered soothingly to her, easing the pain with his embrace.

Catlyn sniffled as she continued to cry, burying her face deeper into his chest. “She robbed my mother of everything. Everything. And he- he didn’t do anything to stop her. My mother trusted him, loved him, and he just left her, sentencing her to a life of penury. Were it not for my mother’s resolve, she- we- could have spent our lives living in the slums of Denerim. She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. All because of them,” she cried out as a sob escaped her once more. “I want her to pay for what she did,” she growled.

“It was deplorable what that woman did, though not at all uncommon darling. There is no room for mercy in the game of thrones.”

Catlyn pushed away from him in shock, her eyes flaring. “You condone that witch’s actions?” she accused him, anger replacing the pain she had felt since leaving the Trevelyan estate.

“Condone? Of course not. I despise those who view the purity of their line as justification for the inexcusable means they take to achieve their end. You forget the principal reason I left my own family was for their inability to accept the relations I chose to pursue. But you’re naïve if you think you’re the first person to be treated this way.”

“That’s no reason to accept what she did to my mother. What she did to me.”

Dorian sighed and clasped her hands gently at her sides. “Do not mistake understanding with acceptance, love. What she did was shameful in every sense and I shall gladly spend the rest of my days plotting with you sweet revenge, if that is what you truly desire. But know that revenge can eat away at a person, twist them into a horror that is not worthy of someone as kind-hearted as yourself. You need never forgive the woman she what she has done. Though I suspect that one day, you too will find yourself faced with the decision to sacrifice the well-being of one person to protect everything else you hold dear. The means to her end were perhaps unjustified, but be careful not to judge someone so quickly for wanting to protect what is important to them.”

Catlyn lowered her gaze, feeling the weight of his admonishment. He sounded just like something Gaspar would say, she thought to herself. 

Dorian leaned his head in towards her. “What’s that you say? I’m handsome, witty, and wise? I know darling, impossible isn’t it. But here I am!” Catlyn smiled weakly, sniffling as her tears subsided. “Now let’s go find ourselves a comfortable inn and a good tavern so we can drown our sorrows in piss poor wine, shall we? You’ve nearly killed our mounts riding them the way you did and if they don’t die of thirst then I know I shall.” With that, he put his arm around her, took her reins, and gently guided her towards Cassandra and Bull who stood nearby watching their exchange with looks of sympathy and concern. They said nothing, not needing to, as understanding was conveyed through their every move. They followed the pair silently down the hill towards the little village and the tavern light that glowed in welcome for their arrival.


	10. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen shares his past in an effort to mend the Herald's broken heart. He's shocked an what she reveals in turn.

Even before the Herald’s return, word of what had transpired at the Trevelyan estate reached Haven. Cullen’s mind raced as he listened to Leliana’s report. 

“Well that certainly explains some things,” Cullen replied as she concluded her update. 

Josephine had sat down, a hand clutching her heart. “No wonder she despises nobles. She feels they are responsible for everything that happened to her and her mother.”

“Can you blame her?” Cullen shook his head in disgust. “She was not out of line with her accusations. The class divide in our society is prevalent across Thedas. Your life is worth less if you are not noble. Or so they would have us believe,” he added.

“It still leaves many questions unanswered,” Leliana continued. “We still don’t understand why she kept their connection a secret. She must have known beforehand, judging by the way she reacted at the woman’s invitation. We also don’t know who sent that letter. Lady Trevelyan would have had no reason to write her in such a cryptic fashion.”

“What does that matter now, Leliana?” Josephine argued. “Does it matter where she came from, where she lived, where her family is now? She’s proven to us through her actions that she is committed to the Inquisition. That’s all that’s important. Let her have her past. We all have one.”

“Perhaps, Josie. But I for one would feel better knowing if there are any threats against her that we must safeguard against. She’s proven she has secrets. What else could she be hiding?”

Cullen sighed. Though he agreed with Leliana, he was also beginning to appreciate the Ambassador’s argument more and more. If the past was all that mattered- all that defined a person- then he was doomed. Perhaps everyone should be allowed some secrets.

Having no further wish to discuss the matter, Cullen politely excused himself. He returned to his cabin, seating himself at his desk and flipping haphazardly through requisitions he needed to authorize. His mind kept drifting back to the report on the Trevelyan encounter. His heart ached at the thought of all the pain and bitterness the Herald must have been carrying with her for so long only to have to expose it all in front of dozens of strangers. What that family had done to her and her mother was inexcusable in his mind and he felt a great sympathy towards the young woman. Though he couldn’t fully appreciate what it would be like to watch someone you love carry such pain and sadness in their heart their whole life, he could relate to what it felt like to be mistrustful of an entire class of citizen, to stoke the embers of revenge and hate so deep within the pit of your soul that you became barely recognizable even to yourself. The events at the Fereldan Circle had made sure he felt that. But he also knew how cathartic forgiveness could be, even though he struggled with it himself at times.

After careful consideration, he decided that, given the opportunity, he would speak to her about it upon her return. He wanted to help, especially after everything she had given so far. He wasn’t sure it would do any good, especially given their history, but he was willing to try.

His opportunity came a week later, five days after the party’s return from the Free Marches. The first two days, they barely saw the Herald, as she chose to lock herself in her room, accepting no visitors. Even Dorian struggled to get in to see her.

“I’m concerned for her,” the Seeker started one afternoon while she and the other advisors had gathered in the war room. “She’s barely eaten and refuses to speak more than five words to me through the door. Dorian has managed at least to bring her some food, but she refused to let him stay longer than a few moments.”

“Perhaps she is in a form of shock?” said Josephine. “Might a draught of some kind help?”

“I know she is rather fond of the apothecary. I can speak to him,” Cullen offered.

“That would be wise,” Cassandra said, narrowing her eyes slightly. “However, Commander, given the relationship you two have, maybe it would be best if someone else made the attempt to bring it to her. If she refuses to open the door to us, the odds aren’t good she would do so for you.” Cullen winced slightly at her suggestion. “Perhaps we should ask Dorian to bring it to her.”

Cullen stiffened at the mention of letting the Tevinter bring it to her instead. “I think under the circumstances it would be important for her to know that we all stand united in our support of her, in which case who better suited to convey the message than the perceived weakest link,” he replied, a slight note of resentment in his voice.

Cassandra considered his point for a moment, then nodded her head in agreement. “Very well then, Commander. See that the apothecary provides her with something to soothe her and ease whatever anguish she may be feeling. The sooner we can have her back in the field, the better. We need to make a decision regarding whether to approach the mages or Templars and time is of the essence.”

“I’ll see to it at once,” Cullen replied, nodding his head in goodbye as he left the war room. He made his way through the dusk to the apothecary’s door and knocked politely, letting himself in. The long robed man was seated at this work station, a curious assortment of potions and extracts held in small vials set out across his desk. He didn’t look up from the flask he was steadily pouring from when he replied, “Yes? What is it?”

Cullen cleared his throat. “I am looking some help regarding a rather delicate matter.”

“I don’t do love potions if that’s what you’re asking for,” the man replied haughtily, not even looking up to acknowledge the commander. 

Cullen was nonplussed. He spoke again, his tone far more commanding this time than the first. “The matter concerns the Herald and you would do well to consider the request seriously.”

Adan put down the vial he was holding and turned to look at the visitor, blanching slightly when he recognized the Commander of the Inquisition Forces. “Apologies, Ser, I did not see you there,” he stumbled quickly. “How may I be of service?”

Cullen glared at the man and uncrossed his arms, his severity of tone having achieved its intended purpose. “The Herald may be suffering from a state of shock following some recent events she experienced while traveling abroad. I’m sure you can appreciate the need for discretion in this matter. I wondered whether there was something you could give her to help ease any discomfort she may be feeling.”

“Yes of course, I could certainly help. She and I were working on something related before she left that I think may apply well in this case.”

Cullen shifted slightly. “Though I am no expert in the field of herbology, I’m not sure an anti-venom would be the right prescription in this case.”

The apothecary looked at him in confusion. “Anti-venom? No of course not. Something else entirely. Her companion, the Tevinter, he came with her as well and offered some insight into a draught that could be brewed to combat post-traumatic stress suffered following an encounter with a demon. The Herald was concerned that with so many rifts in the sky spewing demons and shades into the world, people may be suffering from this more commonly than before. The Tevinter asked me to brew some earlier. He was going to come by to pick up a batch. I am just putting the finishing touches on it now.”

Cullen was surprised at the news. When she wasn’t spending time running around doing the Inquisition’s bidding, she spent it helping others in need. He was touched by her generosity of spirit.

“I will take it to her if it’s ready.”

The apothecary looked at him, unsure of what to do. “But Lord Pavus said he would-“

“I said, I will take it to her myself,” Cullen ordered. The thought of Dorian sweeping in to provide her comfort stirred a green demon depth within him.

“Of course Commander!” he stammered. “I’ve almost completed it.” He quickly returned to his task, adding some more drops of a vile-looking brown substance to his vial and carefully placing a stopper at the top. He handed it over very gently to the Commander. “Please don’t shake it,” he warned him. “The contents are slightly volatile and it would be a shame to have the contents erupt. It took me nearly all day to make this,” he added.

Cullen took the vial as if holding a poison spider. “I will take great care with it. Thank you.”

The apothecary nodded in response. “I hope it helps. I’ve heard rumours of what happened and, well,” he stumbled on his words. “She’s a good person,” he said at last. “She doesn’t deserve that.”

Cullen inclined his head slightly and left the cabin, closing the door softly behind him and making his way over to the Herald’s accommodations. Once outside her door, he took a deep breath before knocking. “Herald, it’s me, Cullen. May I come in?” He stood looking nervously at the door, shifting his weight under his armour, painfully aware of the wandering eyes of the villagers watching him. After another minute of silence, he tried again. “Catlyn, please. I have something for you from Adan.” This time he heard a slow shuffle of feet and the door clicked as it swung open just enough to let him pass. He inhaled and took a step into the dark room. The curtains had been drawn to close out the light and any prying eyes. Two small candles had been lit and offered only a slight respite from the darkness. Despite the lack of light, he could see the dark shadows below her puffy red eyes that were cast downwardly at his feet. Their usual shine was dulled by pain.

“Thank you for bringing this, Commander. I had expected Dorian to stop by with it.”

Cullen’s stomach twisted slightly as another image of the mage comforting her came unbidden to his mind. “We were concerned for you. I went to speak with the apothecary regarding any advice he might have for something to prescribe and he gave me this.” He handed her the vial, hesitating slightly. “Are you sure it’s safe to drink, your Worship? He said the contents were volatile,” Cullen looked at the vial with trepidation. 

Catlyn laughed, a short, dull sound that escaped her lips. “A slight chemical reaction between the arbour blessing and the gossamer elfroot create some bubbles, but the worse it will do will make you belch.” She looked up and noticed Cullen’s slightly embarrassed look. “It would have been a shame for the contents to bubble over, however. I’m sure it took Adan a while to brew. We were still working on a production method that would allow for greater batches to be made at once but hadn’t quite gotten it perfected just yet. You did well to treat it gently,” she explained, forcing a small smile in thanks.

Cullen smiled apologetically. “Achemy was never my strong suit.”

An awkward silence stretched between them. Cullen’s eyes swept the room as he considered his next move. “I see you haven’t eaten much,” he said, gesturing to the half-eaten slice of bread and cheese left on a plate on her desk.

She shrugged her shoulders lamely. “Not much appetite.”

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Maker’s breath, why did I think this was a good idea, he thought to himself. I’m useless at this.

As if reading his mind, she asked, “Why exactly are you here, Commander? You’ve no doubt been debriefed by both Leliana and Cassandra. I’m not sure what else I need to add.”

Cullen cleared his throat uncomfortably. Where to begin? “I just- we, the advisors- just wanted you to know that we are here to support you. If there is anything we can do, anything you need, you need only ask.”

Catlyn’s gaze met his searchingly, looking for any sign of insincerity. Finding only genuine concern, she bowed her head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Cullen. I appreciate it.”

Cullen swallowed hard and returned her nod, recognizing dismissal. As he turned to leave, he stopped. She’s done everything to help us, he thought. She rises to the challenge and has shown determination and selflessness at every turn. We can’t expect her to go on without any reciprocation. His resolve strengthened once more as he set his jaw and turned to face her.

“Catlyn, if I may, there’s something I wanted to share with you.”

Her eyes shot up to his, not expecting him to turn back and stay. She stood transfixed, arms still crossed over her chest but giving him no other indication that she wanted him to leave.

“I can’t pretend to understand what it must have felt like, not knowing your father, watching your mother toil and suffer unjustly on account of one person’s wholly selfish actions, nor what it would have been like spending your early years living in poverty. I can appreciate that this type of experience can shape a person. In fact, I know all too well how certain traumatic events can lead a person down a path they may never have imagined nor wanted to be on in the first place. Are you familiar with the events surrounding the fall of Kinloch Hold?”

Catlyn shook her head. The realm of magic had never been one she had been exposed to much as a child. While she had heard stories of the Circle falling during the Blight, it was far-removed from her sheltered life in Antiva.

“I was barely more than a child when I joined the Templars. I harassed a poor knight-captain passing through my village for months before they finally accepted me. I must have shown some promise though, if he agreed to take me. I was a young man when I was first assigned to the Fereldan Circle. At first it was one of the better Circles. Mages and Templars got along well together. I made some good friends, some brothers and sisters even, among them both. I even fell in love with a mage,” Cullen barked a short, sad laugh and shook his head. “Such as love is at that age.”

Catlyn’s eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t think that sort of thing was allowed.”

“It is certainly not encouraged. Templars are sworn to protect mages from demon possession. It is believed, and perhaps rightly so, that one’s judgment would be compromised should they face a situation where they would have to choose between cutting down the abomination to save the others within the Circle, or saving the mage from themselves. My knight-commander became aware of our relationship and on the night of her Harrowing, he selected me to watch over her.” Seeing the horror on Catlyn’s face, he quickly added, “Luckily she made it through her initiation unscathed. Still, it was a good lesson to be taught and I knew then and there that my duty came first and I felt confidence that I would have followed through should it have been necessary. However, I placed some distance between the two of us as time wore on.” Cullen paused for a moment, lost in thought. “Though I never truly stopped caring for her,” he added, his voice soft.

Catlyn looked down at her hands, unsure of what to say. After an awkward pause, Cullen continued.

“Around that time, there was a shift in the mood. Rumours of unfair treatment of mages at the hands of the Templars spread into the Circle and the seed of distrust was sown. At about the same time, a twisted mage named Uldred began disseminating propaganda against the Templars at Kinloch Hold, fuelling those mages harbouring any kind of negativity into a rebellion. They claimed the Order had lost its way and that mages should be free to rule themselves with any safeguards in place. It was not unlike the current mage rebellion. But Uldred’s views were so twisted, so evil, that they led him and his followers to abuse blood magic in an effort to bring down the Circle and free them from the so-called imprisonment in which they lived.”

“I’m not sure his opinion was completely without merit. It does seem that mages are often treated unfairly in the Circles.” Catlyn hesitated a moment. “Though I don’t agree that the means justify the end.”

Cullen nodded in agreement. “The system is flawed, there is no doubt about that. But what he unleashed that night was so abhorrent in every sense of the word. I still recall the images of my compatriots, my friends, savagely beaten and torn apart by the demons he summoned to fight for his cause. Mage, Templar, child, elder, it didn’t matter to them. They slaughtered them all. I fought as best I could but there were so many, I was easily overwhelmed.” Cullen shut his eyes and grimaced, his fists clenched at his sides, his brow glistening in the candlelight with sweat. It was clear he was fighting back memories that threatened to overtaken him. He took a deep breath and continued. “I locked myself in the top of the tower, using enchantments to form a barrier between myself and the other levels. I knew Uldred was upstairs forcing the senior enchanters to use blood magic to summon demons. It was all I could do to prevent the rampage from spreading. One particularly evil demon stalked my barrier, wanting desperately to get in. A desire demon. It didn’t take it long to discover my weakness. It brought Isidora to me, had her beg and plead to save her. I was so distraught by what was unfolding that I panicked and refused to let down the barrier. I thought for certain the demon had been conjuring am image of her in my mind to try and trick me into fighting and allowing it access. I defied it, refusing to let down my guard, and watched as the demon sank its claws into Isidora’s pleading, desperate body and ripped out her heart. Her anguished screams still haunt me to this day.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling now to hold himself together. “Still, I told myself it was all a dream, a cruel trick of the mind. But when the Hero of Fereldan came to rescue us and I was released from the barrier, I discovered that the demon had somehow found the real Izzy and her death had been because of me.”

Catlyn stared, ashen faced, opening and closing her mouth though nothing came out. “You… you can’t blame yourself for her death. There was nothing you could have done to save her. Had you let down the barrier, the demon would have killed you both.”

Cullen stared ahead of her in silence, a haunted look on his face. After a minute, he replied, “The events that day changed me. I became suspicious and cold. Cruel even. I fought for the Rite of Annulment and when it was denied, I called for the head of the Knight-Commander. When the Circle was granted independence, I went mad. I can’t say I recall much of what happened during that time, but there are rumours of three apprentices having gone missing and I know who they were.” Cullen left the words hanging.

Catlyn’s face twisted in pain. “You don’t think you…”

Cullen sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but so much of that time was a blur. I had suffered so much mental and physical stress during that time, anything could be possible. And I would be the same man today had I not been given a second chance. I was sent to Greenfell a broken man. I don’t think anyone expected me to leave there. I never expected to myself when I first arrived. But the revered mother who was in charge took pity on me and saw something worth salvaging. She taught me how to accept what had come to pass and how to move on without harbouring the hate and fear that had penetrated my soul. When I first arrived in Kirkwall, I wasn’t sure I would be able to manage." He paused and took a deep breath, "But I wanted to. I wanted to believe that I had the strength to overcome it, to be a better person no longer mired by the doubt, fear and prejudice that had threatened to ruin my life. I can’t say that I have completely forgotten what happened, but I made a conscious choice not to let it define me any longer. The 13 year-old boy from Honnleath who wanted to devote his life to serving others, to do some good in the world and make it a better place, he is the one that I want to define who I will be in life.” Cullen paused and took a step forward toward Catlyn and gently raised her chin with his hand, forcing her to look into his eyes. Her own golden-flecked brown ones looked back at him, pain pinching the corners but still showing inner strength that surprised him. “I’m telling you this because you too have suffered. Perhaps not in the same gruesome way as I, but you have seen injustice. Felt pain. And I can see it now in your eyes- you want revenge. Revenge is a shallow reward. It will not erase what was done to you and your family. It won’t change your childhood. It will only cause more death and more suffering."

Catlyn closed her eyes, fighting back the tears he could see pooling. He desperately wanted to brush them away but held back. "You have a choice to make. You may never have to forgive what that woman did, but you can make peace with it. Don’t let it rule your life. It’s too short and you are too beautiful a person to be ruined by its poison. I’ve seen what you have done for people, the kindness you’ve shown, your commitment to the Inquisition. It humbles me and makes me even more embarrassed for the way I first treated you. Try as I may, I am only human and still make mistakes despite the vow I made when leaving Greenfell. I only hope that you can forgive me and make peace with the rest.” Cullen let his hand drop to his side as he finished, waiting nervously to see how she would respond. Catlyn opened her eyes to stare back at him, and then with a look of resignation, she sighed and turned to sit down on the bed. She sat with her forearms resting on her legs, the thumb of her right hand gently stroking the small heart-shaped mark on her inner left wrist. It was several moments before she spoke.

“As a child, I really didn’t want for much. I remember being hungry often when I was very little, for at that time my mother and I were still living in Denerim. She returned there after having left the university. She was originally from there but both her parents had passed away so there really wasn’t anything for us there. The Trevelyan influence stretched far and wide and even in Fereldan it was very difficult for my mother to get by. She often went to the Chantry for sanctuary, trading her skills and knowledge in healing for a place to stay and food to eat. But she knew she could never give me any kind of hope in life if she stayed. One day, an Antivan merchant arrived at the Chantry with his little boy who was very ill. The sisters didn’t know what to do with him, but my mother did. She nursed him back to health, using her knowledge to mix a potion she had developed for the type of illness he suffered from. The merchant was forever grateful to my mother and offered her gold, silver, jewels, anything she could have wished for. She asked for nothing in return- she was only happy to help someone in need. That was my mother for you,” Catlyn laughed softly, a small smile touching the corner of her mouth. “When he insisted, she asked for safe passage out of Denerim. I was 4 at the time. He agreed and we traveled among his merchandise destined for Antiva City. When we arrived, we knew no one there- and that was just what she wanted. A clean slate. We sought refuge in the Chantry where my mother quickly befriended the sisters who told her of an old bookstore owner who had recently lost his wife. His children had moved on, marriages, children and the like, and he was struggling to manage the shop on his own. My mother went to him and offered to run the store for him in exchange for room and board. He could only offer the small attic space above the store which was once his home years before he and his wife had started their family. It was old, disused, and in complete disrepair; but it would be our little sanctuary. My mother immediately accepted. As time wore on and their relationship grew, they realized they had friends in common back at the university. He had heard about what had happened to her and despite the rumours he could see how unfairly she had been treated. He didn’t cast us out. He was a good man, the first good man I had ever met. Though I was only a child at the time, I could see the looks my mother garnered from most people. Young, single woman with a child. People jumped to all kinds of conclusions, never good ones.” She paused and ran a hand over her tired face. “My mother used to tell me stories about my father. She never lied to me, though she didn’t always give me the full story. I never knew his name. She never used it, not once. To protect me or herself from the memories, I don’t know. I suspect more me from myself for as I grew older, she could see the resentment growing and I think she wanted to protect me from it.” Catlyn laughed drily and looked up at Cullen who had by now perched himself on the desk across from her. “You may have noticed that I have a temper and can be quite stubborn.”

Cullen returned her laugh with a lopsided grin. “The thought may have occurred to me.”

She smiled weakly in return and continued. “She told me that my father loved me very much and that it broke his heart to have to leave us but that he had obligations to his family that he could not let go. I always wondered what made them so much more important than his obligations to us. We were his family too, after all. But I was too young to understand and the ignorance turned to resentment over time. She told me of how they had met and fell in love, spending hours reading books together. Apparently I was conceived in a library late one night at the university, the pair overcome with passion as they worked on a research project together.” Catlyn snorted. “I still fail to see how dusty old books and pages of research notes could stir up such heated passion as could have led to my conception, but then I guess my mother was always a bookworm.”

Cullen smiled inwardly as he recalled a moment not long ago where her own discoveries had her glowing with a passion he could imagine being similar to the one her parents felt that night. He kept the thought to himself for the moment.

“Although I had no father, I never lacked for father figures. I’ve already told you about Rinaldo, but there was also Gaspar, my guildmaster. We met one night under rather unfortunate circumstances.” Catlyn’s face darkened at the memory. “From that point on, we became friends. He would regularly check up on me, walk me home after working with Rinaldo. I was 13 at the time. He would tell me stories of his adventures and show me some tricks. Because I worked with knives all day, I was a quick learner. When I was 16, he asked me if I would join the Crows. I hesitated at first. I didn’t think my mother would approve and I didn’t like keeping secrets from her. I made some excuse and he respected my decision. Still, we kept our relationship going. He was probably the closest thing to a father I ever had. As I went through my adolescence, he kept me level-headed even though by then I had developed a healthy dislike for the nobility. Somewhere in my youth my mother had told me about my father’s heritage, though never his name nor where he came from. She felt I ought to be well-versed in things like etiquette and whatever else came along with being of the upper class. I hated it all, but I obliged, not wanting to disappoint my mother. 

"As my knowledge and appreciation of the Crows grew, I came to see them as a way of fulfilling my personal vendetta to cull the noble population as best I could. I saw them all as one big group of lying, scheming, selfish bastards who would stop at nothing to get their way. When I was 19, I joined Gaspar. At first he took me along on all his jobs and taught me the way of the assassin. I showed great promise and was quietly identified by the other guildmasters as a potential successor. Gaspar was respectful of my wish to only work on specific contracts, all of which involved the nobility. I never accepted contracts involving anyone else. Since they were typically harder targets to pick off, being able to afford guards and the like, my reputation grew quickly. Gaspar and I always worked together though because it isn’t until you are given your talon that you earn the right to be a full assassin, able to take on contracts of your own. I learned so much from him.

"It was about a month before the Conclave that I was summoned before the masters and given my talon. The pride I felt that day could have moved mountains. I was assigned a contract to assassinate the son of a well-known Free Marcher household. Willam Trevelyan. The head of the household, Lady Guinevere Trevelyan, had crossed the wrong people in Antiva and they wanted her to pay dearly.”

Cullen’s heart sank as he recognized the names from Leliana’s report. He knew where this was going and the thought sickened him.

“I took my assignment and left immediately, telling my mother I had to go with Rinaldo to one of the slaughterhouses in the countryside to help with an exceptionally big herd that year. It was a common enough occurrence; she didn’t think anything of it. I never told her about the Crows. It is one of the few secrets I’ve kept from her.”

Catlyn paused again, collecting her thoughts before continuing on. Cullen sat transfixed, not wanting to break the moment and cut her off. She had revealed more to him than any report Leliana was able to gather and he felt both humbled and touched that she would choose to share it with him, despite everything that had passed between them.

Catlyn continued, still resting on her forearms. “I arrived at their home in the middle of the night and spend the next two days scouting out the ground and following guard rotations. Gaspar has secured me a blueprint of the house so I knew which room the woman’s son occupied. On the third night, I scaled the walls and climbed up onto his balcony and into his room. I found their overconfident manner audacious and I thought them foolish for not having better protection. A child could have snuck in. Still, I didn’t mind the lack of challenge. I waited in his room, hidden until he came up to bed. I watched him as he got ready, knelt in prayer, and then sat at his desk briefly to look at a small frame that stood near the edge. His face was illuminated by the moonlight. He was a handsome man and I could see love on his face but pain too as he looked at the picture. I was curious, but wasted no time in taking advantage of the situation. I slit his throat cleanly and left him in the chair. Once I was finished, I lifted the frame to see what he had been looking at. I was surprised to see the face of a young woman that very much resembled me. Many people often say my mother and I look alike, though we share different eyes. At the time, I didn’t make the connection. He lived so far away. I thought nothing more of it and left. 

"A few weeks later, just before leaving for the Conclave, I came home one day to find my mother in tears. A friend of hers and my father’s had written to her of his death. My heart broke to see her so destroyed by the news. I immediately thought back to the picture I had seen while in his house and I asked her if she would finally tell me my father’s name. Willam Trevelyan, she replied, of the noble House Trevelyan.” Catlyn paused and let the enormity of her words sink in. She continued, though her voice was dull and hollow-sounding. “I did my best to console her, but she was completely miserable. I never knew him so it felt less relevant to me. Perhaps a part of me felt some sadness as any hope I may have harboured of him returning to us one day died as well, but that was it. It was her pain that shattered me. Even after all these years, she still loved him. Her loss completely broke her and it was all my fault.” Catlyn’s resolve finally broke as she let out an anguished sob and dropped her head into her hands, her body heaving with convulsions. Cullen sat frozen, unable to speak. His heart screamed at him to comfort her but he couldn’t bring himself to do it for hear it may just make things worse. The cruel irony of the situation sickened him. All he wanted to do was shield her from the pain, to protect her and make it all go away. He felt completely useless in that moment.

After her sobs subsided, she sat up again, wiping her eyes furiously and sniffing. “I would do anything for my mother," she started, her voice cracking. "The idea that some person could be so reckless in their actions so as to put their own child at risk was unforgiveable to me. I saw Lady Trevelyan as the root of all the evil that had even come to my mother and wanted revenge so badly. When I heard that she was calling me her granddaughter, I could only see white rage. I don’t know what exactly I hoped to achieve in going to see her. I suspect the shame I brought her is the best I could have hoped for. Death seemed too merciful. But now that it’s over, I still can’t help but feel so much hate toward her, like I could spend the rest of my life making her pay.” 

Her eyes were as hard as stone as she sat trembling on her bed. Her silence finally broke Cullen from his trance. He fell before her on one knee and took her pale, cold hands in his, his face looking up at her in earnest. “This is where you have a choice. You can’t do anything else to avenge your mother’s loss. Lady Trevelyan has lost the battle and you can’t spend your life feeding off this rage you have against her and the entire noble class. It will eat away at you. What transpired that night was truly the irony of the Gods, but you can choose to let it go. For your own sake. Don’t let this change who you are.”

Catlyn snorted. “A cold-hearted killer?”

Cullen shook his head, his eyes holding hers. “No, you are more than that. You have an inner strength and resolve unlike any I have ever seen. You look at people and want to help- and you do. You have a fair sense of judgment and a desire to use your skills to make the world a better place, even despite being dealt an unfortunate hand to start in life. For all our sakes’ and yours most of all, don’t let this define you. Let it go. Move on. You are stronger than these emotions. You. Can. Do. It.” He emphasized each last word he spoke, wanting so desperately for her to believe it to be true. 

She stared back at the sincerity that was written all over his face, the man who had mistrusted her from the start but had shown a willingness to change. He had asked for her forgiveness. He had been on the precipice of darkness much like she felt now and his story inspired her to believe that she too could chose the path of light instead of darkness. She closed her eyes and nodded, exhaustion finally taking over her as her shoulders slumped forward. Cullen reached up and clasped them, steadying her weakened body.

“You must be exhausted. You haven’t eaten properly in days. You should take this and get some rest,” he motioned to the vial she still held clasped in her left hand. She nodded and slowly brought the vial to her lips, uncorking it with her teeth and downing the contents in one gulp. He pulled back the covers on her bed and helped ease her in, laying them back on top of her as she lay her head on the pillow, eyes already half-closed.

“Please promise to eat something in the morning,” he added softly. She nodded her head in acquiescence. He squeezed her shoulder gently as she got up and moved to the door.

“Cullen?” her voice came drowsily from the bed, the effects of the potion already taking hold.

He turned back to look at her. For once, she seemed peaceful. He hoped that having opened up to someone had the cathartic effect on her that she desperately needed, helping to release the emotions she had kept bottled up inside for so long.

“Thank you,” she said simply. He nodded his head in return and left her cabin, closing the door quietly behind him.


	11. Aftermath of Redcliffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn chooses the mages. Cullen overreacts. This time, she takes the high road and fights to keep the peace.

Catlyn stared ahead of herself, swaying slowly from side to side as her mount walked down the Redcliffe thoroughfare. An eerie silence had fallen over her party following the events that had transpired at the castle. Catlyn was lost in thought, feeling very disturbed by the future she had witnessed. Who was this Elder One? What did he want with red lyrium and Tevinter cults and… her? Obviously the mark. The blighted green gash that throbbed in her hand and disrupted her sleep. She knew for certain that whatever future he envisioned with its magic was one that she was determined to never let come to pass. Even if it meant giving up her life in order to do it. The haunted look in her friends’ eyes, the suffering they must have endured- it was too much for her to handle. She shuddered as she fought back the memories, grasping the saddle of her mount to steady herself.

She looked over at the others. Dorian looked particularly sombre. His face was lost in a mask of sadness. It pained her to see her friend so upset. She pulled him to him as they rode on, out of earshot from the others.

“Are you alright?” she asked lamely. She had never been very good and breaking awkward silences.

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” he replied, trying hard to steel himself against her sympathetic gaze. “I’m still as good-looking and charming as ever. What else matters?” Dorian sniffed and lifted his chin, trying to hide his vulnerability.

“Come on, Dorian,” she coaxed gently. “I know he was your friend.”

Dorian snorted. “Once, perhaps. A long time ago. I barely recognized the man in front of us now.” Dorian laughed sadly and shook his head, looking down at his reins. After a pause, he seemed to pull himself together. “Alexius was a great man once. He was one to which I compared all others. We had ideas, great hopes for the empire. I just can’t understand why he would throw it all away.” He looked over at her. “Really darling, enough of this. It would never help my evil, bloodthirsty Tevinter reputation to have people see me simpering after some soulless husk of a man. Let us talk of other things. Like how you plan to break it to our dear mage-hating commander that you have the rebels their freedom,” he cast her a sidelong glance, one eyebrow raised.

It was Catlyn’s turn to glower now, her brow furrowing in perturbation. How could she forget the latest bump in their otherwise smooth road to reconciliation? After the moment they had shared following her return from the Free Marches, their relationship had improved noticeably. One might have even called them friendly. She had developed a newfound respect for the strong man with the troubled past and had been genuinely touched that he felt her trusted her enough to share that part of him with her. She hadn’t expected that. Moreover, from what she could tell, he hadn’t shared anything she had revealed to him with any of the others. Even Josephine, who was notoriously bad at keeping secrets, hadn’t mentioned a word of it to her. The gratitude that she felt towards him for keeping her private life her own only just outweighed the friendship she now felt for him.

Despite the improvement, it hadn’t prevented them from butting heads over her decision to side with the mages. 

She had argued that given what little knowledge they had, she in particular, of the magic surrounding her mark and the breach, they would be better served by approaching those that lived and studied it. He argued that the Templars’ knowledge of how to defend from it would be just as useful should something go wrong. When she countered that it wasn’t defence they lacked but the power and knowledge to attack and seal it, he returned with the theory that the mages themselves could somehow be involved in its creation in the first place. However, with Leliana and Cassandra siding with her, he had been overruled. But he wasn’t finished there. Then the argument had turned toward how to approach the most “defensible castle in all of Fereldan”, as he put it. Their heated exchange went on into the early hours of the morning before the council finally came up with some kind of agreement. Still, the tension between them had built a wall again, she resentful of him questioning her judgment, he believing she was undermining his knowledge of battle. It did not end well. 

Though despite his anger, she couldn’t help but notice what might have been fear in his eyes. Fear of what, she was unsure. The most obvious answer was the mages themselves, given everything he had been through. But he had claimed that he had put that past behind him and he had even sided with the mages in Kirkwall. Maybe it was something else...

_“Redcliffe castle is one of the most defensible castles in Fereldan. It has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there you’ll die and we’ll lose the only means we have of closing the rifts. I won’t allow it.” ___

His tone had a finality to it that had surprised even the others. There was something else in it too though. He was scared. Of what? Losing their only weapon against the rifts, or something else? Was it more personal than that, she wondered, surprised at how that made her feel. She truly didn’t know. He could be very difficult to read at times.

“Helloooo, oh holy Herald of Andraste. Where are you?” Dorian’s mocking tone broke her reverie.

Catlyn shrugged, resigned to the fate she had in store. “I’ll tell him the truth, what else can I do. That it shouldn’t be up to me to decide their fate. That I refuse to be the one to throw them back in cells when I know so little of the world and what little I do know seems to be wholly unfair. They didn’t ask for their fate, yet we condemn them for it. Let the Chantry and the nobility argue that one out. They seem to be good at picking fights and making decisions that affect thousands without any regard for anyone else’s well-being. I won’t be that person.”

“Couldn’t agree more darling. Though I suspect you will still meet some resistance no matter how honourable your intentions may be.”

“It won’t be the first time he hates me.”

Dorian turned to look at her, visibly shocked. “Whatever made you think our commander hated you?”

Caltyn laughed. “You didn’t see us in the beginning, Dorian. I can tell when someone doesn’t like me.”

“Hate is a very strong word, my friend. Whatever may have transpired early on has certainly not ruined the relationship you now have,” Dorian chided her reprovingly.

“What do you mean? You saw the way he was before we left. I thought at one point he was going to throw me back in a cell over my decision to side with the mages, he was so mad. He couldn’t even speak to me following our meeting.” That had stung Catlyn. She had gone to his cabin the next day to make peace but he had dismissed her, claiming he was too preoccupied preparing for her foolhardy mission to talk.

Dorian smiled at her knowingly. “Sometimes I forget just how young and naïve you really are. When a man is afraid, as I can guarantee you the Commander was, he can do one of two things: cower, or fight. Do you picture our commander cowering?” Catlyn shook her head. “Of course not. So when faced with the impossible task of sending you into a den of rebellious mages capable of electrocuting you on the spot and lighting you up brighter than that blasted green hole in the sky, he did what every man of his nature would do. He fought back and tried to scare you into backing down. When that didn’t work, he picked his ball up and went home like a petulant schoolboy. Although we do get more handsome with age, not everything improves in our temperament,” he smiled wryly at her.

Catlyn stared back at him in confusion. “But what was he so afraid of? We had a solid plan. Things could have been just as dangerous with the Templars.”

Dorian scratched his chin. “I suspect a fair amount had to do with the risk itself. Losing the only means- that we know of- of closing the rifts would be a major setback. But my guess is that it had more to do with it than that,” he stared knowingly at her, making her stomach flip flop.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He eyed her suspiciously and laughed. “If you don’t know yourself darling, I won’t be the one to spoil all the fun.” With that, he kicked his mount and rode up ahead with Bull who was busy telling stories and laughing with the Chargers.

“Men,” Catlyn sighed bitterly, losing herself in thought once more.

\---

“It is not a matter for debate. There will be abominations among the mages and we must be prepared.” Cullen’s hard tone left no doubt that he was unpleased about the news.

“If we rescind our offer of an alliance, it would make the Inquisition appear incompetent, at best, and tyrannical at worse,” Josephine replied sharply.

As Catlyn approached the three advisors and Cassandra, she felt her stomach bottom out as Cullen turned toward her, anger in his eyes, his voice barely concealing his rage.

“What were you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight when the veil is torn open!” She could feel hostility emanating from him in waves. It took her a moment to regain herself and fight back.

“We need them to close the breach. It won’t work if we make enemies of them. I will not be the one responsible for condemning them to a new kind of imprisonment. That won’t do anything to help gain their trust.”

“I know we need them to seal the breach, but they could do as much damage as the demons themselves,” he countered, turning away from her and toward Cassandra. “You were there Seeker. Why didn’t you intervene?”

Catlyn watched as Cassandra slowly drew in her breath. She knew her friend wasn’t any more pleased with her decision than Cullen was now and braced herself for her attack as well. “While I may not completely agree with the decision, I support it. The sole point of the Herald’s mission was to gain the mages’ aid and that was accomplished.”

The look of incredulity and gratitude that Catlyn gave the Seeker was overwhelming. She knew they didn’t always see eye to eye but the friendship they had developed during their travels, bonding over a mutual dislike for nobility, meant a great deal to her. Her support at this time was so appreciated Catlyn had to hold herself back from lunging at her in embrace. Even better, some of the wind had been taken out of the Commander’s sails, his position weakening ever so slightly. Though when Dorian arrived and announced his intention to stay on with the Inquisition seemed to renew the hostility once more. In fact, Catlyn was certain she saw the man’s scowl reach a new depth as she greeted her friend’s news with enthusiasm.

“We can’t do anything until we have regrouped our troops. I will see to preparations at once and meet you in the war room in the morning.” Cullen swept past them and stormed off down the hall, leaving the Chantry door to close with a resounding thud.

“My my, someone’s got their mantle in a mess,” Dorian remarked.

Josephine furrowed her brow. “He’s been quite the bear since you all left. His disposition only improved when the report came back that you had made it out safely, Herald,” she smiled slightly. “Though it regressed again when he learned of your decision to let the mages remain free.”

Dorian cast Catlyn a smug look. She supposed it would be normal for the Commander to feel some relief that she had made it out alive. For the moment, at least, they still needed her. But he was obviously annoyed with her decision regarding the mages’ future. Why was Dorian looking at her like she was missing the obvious?

“Well, I’m exhausted and stink of horse. If you’ll excuse me, I need a bath and a drink. As I understand the Commander, we will reconvene in the morning.” She bowed her head to the others in goodbye and retreated to the quiet of her small cabin. As she walked along the path, she caught sight of the golden hair and fur-lined mantel of the Commander and couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty for his foul mood. Catlyn considered her position, then changed directions, having made the decision to try and extend the olive branch to the person who had shown her the same kindness once before.


	12. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Withdrawal symptoms are getting the best of Cullen. Thankfully Catlyn's got a grip on her temper.

The coolness of the evening air was a welcome respite from the stifling atmosphere inside the Chantry. Cullen’s head pounded, blurring his vision and causing his stomach to churn. He fought back the bile rising in his throat. The withdrawal symptoms had worsened over the past weeks, causing him to lose even more sleep than before and shortening his patience even further. Though try as he might to convince himself that his current state had everything to do with the lyrium withdrawal, he couldn’t deny that there was more to it than that.

His initial reaction to the Herald’s decision to side with the mages had been complete opposition. Nothing much had been done to sway his opinion since the Inquisition had been established and he still felt that their magic posed the greatest threat next to the breach itself. Despite putting aside any past beliefs he might have held of the mages, he felt that the Templars and their order, discipline and strength would be a greater ally in the battle. However, after many conversations and assurances from Leliana and Cassandra regarding their strategy, he reluctantly admitted that their plan may work out for the best. 

When word came back from Redcliffe that she had given the mages’ their freedom, the memories of Kinloch Hold flooded him once more. Fear took over again and he found himself out of control, fuelled by a particularly bad bout of withdrawal symptoms. He lashed out at her, blaming her for the pain he was reliving and that was unfair. However, by the time he realized how poorly he had acted, he and the Herald had argued so much that the damage had been done and he now finally realized what was truly bothering him. Having let his emotions get away from him again, he feared that their arguing had set them back once more. He had come to value the friendship they were building and the thought that he was responsible for threatening it wracked him with guilt and disappointment. After everything he had confided in her, after everything he himself thought he believed- that he had overcome his past- at the first sign of conflict he resorted to contempt and anger. All because of his own fears, his own weakness. He ran his hand over his face in defeat. How could she ever respect or trust him now? What must the others think? He made a note to discuss his condition with the Seeker in the morning.

“Commader!” the Herald called out to him, freezing him in his steps. He was too exhausted to keep fighting now. He turned around to face the direction of her voice, bracing himself for her fury, his hands clenched in fists by his sides.

“Herald. It’s been a long day and I have many reports to see to. It would be good if we could speak in the morning.” He tried his best to sound civil but even he couldn’t ignore the edge in his tone. He kicked himself inside, trying to get a hold of his emotions. “Unless there’s something urgent you needed,” he added, softening his tone.

The wariness in her eyes dissipated only slightly at his softer tone. “I- I wanted to talk to you about Redcliffe,” she began, but he cut her off, not wanting to engage on that subject any longer.

“There is nothing more to say. The decision has been made. I am beginning preparations now and I will report in the morning,” he replied curtly, his tone indicating finality in his statement.

She lowered he gaze and looked at her hands uncomfortably, her fingers drumming the inside of her marked palm nervously. “I appreciate that, Commander, but that’s not exactly why I wanted to talk to you. Well it is, sort of, just not exactly.” 

He watched her, curiosity peeking through his defences, as she stumbled over her words nervously. Rarely did he ever see the Herald at a loss for words and in such obvious discomfort. Usually she rose to any challenge, gathering a storm about her in support. Could she see how weak he was right now? Was she trying to tell him that the Council was having doubts about his ability to lead? Dread fell over him like a giant avalanche.

“I felt I owed you an explanation,” she began, still looking down. “After everything you confided in me about your past, after our rather tumultuous beginning, and given the way you reacted so heatedly towards my decisions, I thought maybe you felt like I was doing this on purpose to spite you.” She looked up at him in earnest, searching his face for acceptance, forgiveness. “I wanted you to know that’s not why I did it. When it comes to magic and the breach, I am truly at a disadvantage. I have had so little exposure to magic in my life and I hate being ignorant of anything. I felt that the mages, with their knowledge, might be able to afford me greater insight than the Templars on this matter and right now, understanding and information is what I need most.”

Her confession shocked him. How could he have been so selfish? All of this time he had been so wrapped up in his own feelings that he had never stopped to consider hers. They marched her into danger’s path at every turn and not once had she ever refused. This was how he thanked her, with resentment and accusations she didn’t deserve. Blood pooled in his feet as he realized how terribly he had behaved, how unworthy she was of his actions. He stood staring back at her, unable to gather the words he needed to express his remorse.

She straightened and looked up at him, chin raised to protect what little pride she had left. “That’s all. I just thought you should know. I realize we don’t always rule by consensus, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t value and respect everyone’s opinion.” With that, she turned and walked back up the path.

“Wait, Catlyn, please,” Cullen managed to get out as she turned to go. He rubbed the back of his beck and sighed as he tried hard to find the apology he so desperately wanted to offer. “I’ve behaved poorly and for that I am truly sorry. I haven’t quite been myself lately, though that is no excuse. I appreciate your honesty. I apologize if I have been a source of consternation for you. I never meant to cause you any more distress that you have already suffered at my hands.”

She gazed back at him, her brown eyes boring into his soul. Finally, she nodded simply and continued back through the village. He watched her as she slowly made her way across to the tavern, no doubt to join company that was far more pleasurable than his.

“Andraste save me,” he muttered under his breath as he continued somberly back towards his quarters.


	13. Nighttime Vigil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn's suspicions of Cullen's state of health are confirmed. Forever wanting to help those in need, and drawn in even further by a budding relationship with the Commander, Catlyn stays by his side in one of his darker moments.

Sleep evaded her that night. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t shake the visions of the future she had seen in Redcliffe. Leliana, skeletal and soulless; Cassandra on the brink of death, defeat in place of her usually flashing, determined eyes. She would give anything to make sure that future never came to pass.

Finally giving up, she dressed and went out into the darkness of the night to walk and try to clear her head. She wrapped her cloak that Josephine had given her as a gift tightly around her, curling her fingers around its exquisite softness. On the back it bore the symbol of the Inquisition but it was trimmed in the traditional Antivan colours. She loved that cloak and how it reminded her a little bit of home.

As she trudged through the newly fallen snow, approaching the main gates, she became aware of a thrashing, grunting sound. Curious as to what could be making that kind of sound at this time of night she followed the noise through the gates until she came upon its source. Cassandra was attacking a straw dummy with a particular fervour that suggested its very existence insulted her. Catlyn smiled as she approached.

“Not sure it’s entirely deserving of your rage, but I agree it should be moved. Although you could just as easily have picked it up and moved it instead of slashing it to bits,” Catlyn teased as she smiled lopsidedly at her friend.

Cassandra replied with her typical unimpressed grunt. “You’ve been spending too much time in the company of a certain clever dwarf.” She swung her sword once more and cut the dummy entirely in half.

Catlyn smiled. “I think even Bull would be impressed with that move, Cass.”

Cassandra grunted once more, inspecting her handiwork. She looked at Catlyn while wiping away the sweat from her brow. “Can’t sleep?” Catlyn shook her head in reply. “Me neither. The rumours coming out of Therinfal Redoubt are very troubling. I just wish I understood what Seeker Lucius was thinking, calling the Templars and abandoning the Chantry. None of it makes any sense.”

Catlyn nodded her head in agreement. Leliana’s reports spoke of strange behaviour, extreme secrecy, and the mobilization of Templar forces- for what? Not only that but the disturbing reports of red lyrium had everyone on edge. The two companions shared their questions and thoughts on next steps when suddenly, a piercing cry cut through the night air like a knife.

“What was that?” said Cassandra, tensing as the two were startled by the noise. “It sounded like a wounded animal but it came from the soldiers’ barracks.”

Catlyn’s hands went instinctively to her daggers. “I don’t know, but we should see what it is.”

Cassandra nodded in agreement and the two made their way quickly towards the cries that grew louder and closer together. Once closer, there was no mistaking its source.

“They’re coming from the Commander’s cabin.” Cassandra’s face glimmered with concern.

“What’s going on?”

Cassandra shook her head slowly and said nothing but her eyes betrayed a suspicion. She gently opened the door and stepped inside the cabin, Catlyn following close behind. It took only a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room. Laying on top of his bed, his nightshirt clinging to his body with sweat, was a whimpering, thrashing Commander of the Inquisition Forces.

“What’s wrong with him?” Catlyn asked in alarm. She approached his tossing and turning body and felt his brow. It was hot with fever. “Is he ill, Cassandra? What’s going on?”

Cassandra’s worried face did nothing to alleviate her concern. Another anguished cry escaped his mouth as he begged to some unknown presence. 

“The Commander has been battling a certain condition for some time now. I knew what the potential effects were, but I had not realized it had advanced this far.”

“What condition, Cassandra?” Catlyn demanded. If she was going to do anything to help, she needed details. Cassandra remained motionless. “Tell me, Seeker!” she barked.

Cassandra’s eyes shot over to meet hers and the fear and concern confirmed what Catlyn had been suspecting for a while now. Fear gripped her in return. “It’s lyrium withdrawal, isn’t it? Isn’t it!” she snapped at the woman.

Shock registered on Cassandra’s face. “ How did you know?” she gasped.

Catlyn clenched her teeth and inhaled sharply. Fool! How could he ever have thought he could manage this alone? Catlyn was all too familiar with the dangers associated with lyrium withdrawal. “Stay with him. Try not to let him hurt himself.” Catlyn dashed out of the cabin, Cassandra calling out after her as she ran into the village. 

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her to the apothecary and pounded on the locked door. “Adan! Adan! Wake up! Open the door, it’s Catlyn!” She continued pounding on the door until her shouts were finally rewarded by a clink of a lock opening. The door swung open to reveal a sleepy, disheveled, and decidedly cranky-looking apothecary. “Oh thank the Maker! Do you have any of that elixir left that we were working on?” She pushed her way in, looking for a lantern and lighting it quickly.

“Andraste’s tits Herald, do you know what time is it? I realize you’re holy and what not, but not all of us are able to function without adequate sleep,” he grumbled in response, following her as he covered his mouth to hide a yawn.

“I don’t have time to explain, Adan. Please. Where’s the elixir?” she started rummaging through his vials, searching for the familiar deep purple liquid they had mixed not long ago.

“Oi! Watch it eh! I had just organized these,” he groaned, grabbing a few overturned vials she had inadvertently knocked over.

“Adan! Where is it?”

“Maker’s breath! I haven’t any left! I used the last batch we mixed up on the test subjects. The results were astonishing, by the way, you should have seen how they reacted-“

Catlyn’s desperate cry cut him off. “Damn it to the Void! You used it all? There isn’t any left? But I thought I had picked up enough supplies for a second batch?”

“Easy, Herald! Why are you so angry? How was I to know you would come barging into my home in the middle of the night!” He set the last vial back in its place and turned to look at her. “I started mixing a new batch but it isn’t finished yet. I have everything proportioned but haven’t heated it yet. If you’re that desperate, I can stoke the fire but you know as well as I do that it won’t be hot enough for our purposes for another hour.”

Catlyn cursed and slammed her hands on the desk in frustration. “I don’t have an hour,” she groaned.

Just then there was a quiet knock on the door and Solas poked his head around the corner. “Excuse me, Herald, I don’t mean to intrude but I heard the commotion and thought I might be of some assistance.”

“Solas! Maker and I glad to see you!” Catlyn’s face shone in relief. Solas, in turn, looked embarrassed to be welcomed with such exuberance.

“How may I be of assistance, Herald?”

“Heat, Solas. I need you to heat something up. But it needs to be immediate, not a slow boil. Can you do that?”

Solad nodded his head slowly, as if trying to understand. “I can assist you with that, yes. May I ask what it is I need to heat?”

Catlyn quickly explained what it was she needed him to do, outlining the precise level of heat that she needed. “I need it to burn blue. Do you understand what I mean?” Solas nodded his head again in understanding as Adan came over and placed a large flask filled with the rest liquid that he had taken from his stores.

“Try not to burn my desk down will you? It’s an antique,” he sniffed, eyeing the mage nervously.

Solas turned to the flask, ignoring the apothecary’s comment. He brought his hands together in front of him and focussed on the space between them, his brow furrowed in concentration. Slowly he began to spread his hands and the air between them turned a shimmering bright blue. As the colour intensified, he moved his hands over the flask, enveloping it in a blue glow. He held them there for a few seconds before Catlyn motioned for him to stop. He immediately extinguished the flame, leaving a deep purple liquid where there had once been red.

“Thank you Solas!” Catlyn exclaimed as she threw her arms around him in embrace. His face looked surprised at her sudden enthusiasm.

“Maker’s balls… that is truly remarkable,” Adan leaned in, looking at the flask in wonder. Catlyn wasted no time grabbing an empty vial and pouring the flask’s contents in. “It’s not even hot?!” the apothecary exclaimed, shocked at the effect the magic had, having expected the woman to recoil in pain from the heat. He continued to stare at the flask, mesmerized, as Catlyn thanked them both again and rushed out of the cabin and back towards Cullen’s own. She opened and closed the door quickly behind her, surveying the scene. Cassandra had moved to hold the thrashing man’s arms down and was struggling to keep him from launching himself out of the bed.

“What took you so long?” she demanded through clenched teeth.

Catlyn ignored her and moved over to his head. “Keep him as still as you can,” she asked. She bent down close to his face and spoke softly to him. “Cullen, please, it’s Catlyn. You need to focus, only for a moment. Come back to us, please.” She spoke gently but fear betrayed her calmness as she tried without success to get through to him. Feeling desperate, she resorted to the only thing left she could think of doing. 

The Seeker froze and quickly looked over to the woman who slowly but steadily began singing an old lullaby. She recognized it from the stories she had read as a child. Whatever made her think of trying that didn’t matter to the Seeker as the Commander’s body suddenly slowed and eased up long enough for her to get a good enough grasp and pin him down. Catlyn continued singing but took the opportunity to lift his head gently and slowly pour the vial’s liquid in his mouth. He spluttered at first but she persevered, eventually draining the contents completely. As if by some magic, his body immediately eased up and relented. Cassandra released her hold on his as he sank into the bed.

She stared at Catlyn, her mouth opening and closing in wonder. “What did you give him? How did you know about it?” she finally asked, managing to find her voice.

Catlyn continued to watch the Commander’s now peaceful face. “As you know, my mother was an assistant professor at the University of Orlais before the unfortunate circumstances surrounding her occurred,” she replied, the bitterness in her tone reminding Cassandra of the one she used when they had traveled to the Free Marches. “She had been researching the effects of lyrium withdrawal and how to successfully wean oneself from the substance. She was passionate about finding a cure. I grew up listening to her stories and research on it. She was on the verge of a breakthrough when she was thrown out of the university. That useless, dimwit of a professor she worked for claimed it was his work, but everyone knew it wasn’t. So of course the breakthrough never came and soon my mother’s work was lost from history. But not from her. Whenever she could, she would pursue her work but without access to the rare substances that the university supplied, it was hard for her to make much progress. When I came to Haven and met Adan, we connected over her work. Through our own travels I have been able to access much of what my mother could never procure. We had a little breakthrough of our own, but only with respect to symptom management. My mother could figure out the cure, given the resources and the chance,” her voice trailed off, sadness heavy in her voice. “Had I known what he was doing sooner, I could have helped. He should never have attempted this unassisted. It’s extremely dangerous.” Sadness was quickly replaced with sternness as she mentally chastised him for being so short-sighted.

“He knew the risks. He was willing to take them,” Cassandra replied curtly, a twinge of guilt pulling at her. “Still, perhaps we should have told you sooner. Not that you have every given us any indication of your knowledge,” she countered, hurt that her friend hadn’t felt able to confide in her.

Catlyn sighed. She hadn’t exactly been an open book, even among those she felt most close with. She looked up at Cassandra apologetically but remained silent.

Cassandra got up to her feet. “He seems to have calmed. Is it safe to leave him now?”

Catlyn gazed upon his serene face, committing each line, the curve of his full lips, his smooth brow, to memory. As calm as he appeared now, she wasn’t quite prepared to leave him just yet. “The immediate danger has passed, yes. But this elixir is new and I’m not sure how long its effects will last. I think I will stay here and keep watch until he wakes up.”

Cassandra nodded in agreement. “Let me know if you need anything,” she replied, turning and leaving the cabin quietly. 

Catlyn couldn’t be sure of how long she sat by his side, watching his steady breathing, his chest rising and falling, holding his hand in her own, before she too succumbed to the exhaustion of the night and fell asleep sitting on the floor, her chest slumped over his own.

\---

Catlyn woke feeling a pair of eyes watching her. It took her a moment to register where she was and recall the events of the night before. She blinked as the memories flooded in. She was sprawled on Cullen’s stomach, her hand resting gently on his chest. She gasped as she bolted upright, cursing the kink she felt in her side, no doubt due to her awkward sleeping position. It took but a moment for her to realize the eyes were honey-coloured and belonged to the commander who lay motionless beneath her. He stared back at her, a bemused expression on his face.

“You snore,” he accused softly, a smile betraying any irritation he pretended to show. Catlyn blushed deeply as she shifted her arm off him and sat back on her legs. She quickly wiped her mouth, hoping a trail of drool hadn’t snuck out inadvertently. He laughed a deep, soft laugh from his belly that made his eyes sparkle.

“I’m glad you find me amusing, Commander,” she replied hotly, regaining her composure.

“I’m sorry Herald,” he replied, forcing his face into a semblance of contrition, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Please forgive me. It’s not every day that I wake up with a beautiful woman lying on top of me.”

Catlyn’s eyes widened and her face flushed in embarrassment. Beautiful? She wasn’t she what to make of his comment, unsure of any truth behind it. She quickly changed the subject to something less distracting.

“How are you feeling? Are you still feverish?” she leaned in to feel his forehead. It was cool to the touch. Good, she thought. That was a good sign.

He sighed and looked away, shifting himself partially upright in the bed so he could see her more easily. He looked back at her once more. “Apart from soreness and exhaustion, I’m feeling better than I have in weeks,” he replied. He looked over at the vial on the table beside him. “I take it I you to thank for that?”

Catlyn pursed her lips and stared at him reprovingly. “What were you thinking, stopping the lyrium without proper guidance? Stronger, more knowledgeable people have died doing the same.”

It was Cullen’s turn now to look embarrassed. “How… how did you know? Did Seeker Pentaghast tell you?” Cullen’s face darkened. “We had agreed to leave the matter between us for the time being.”

Catlyn’s tone softened slightly. “She didn’t need to say a thing. I could tell. Not hard to guess- an ex-Templar found feverish, shrieking in the middle of the night, thrashing about as if fighting off abominations. I’ve seen people have nightmares before but none have reacted quite the same way.” Humiliation pushed him further down and Catlyn could see the man physically caving in on himself, trying to block the world out. She looked at him in concern and hesitated slightly before asking, “What was the nightmare about?”

He inhaled deeply in an effort to muster up his strength before closing his eyes and sighing, his shoulders slumping and body sliding down into his pillow. “The same one it always is, though it’s gotten more vivid with each passing day. I’m back at Kinloch Hold, trapped on the upper level of the tower, fighting off abominations. Suddenly she’s there, held captive in front of me by a demon. She’s calling out for me to save her but I’m frozen in place and can’t move a limb.”

Catlyn’s body stiffened slightly at the mention of his former lover’s presence. She’s surprised again at her own reaction. Why would his personal life, his past at that, affect her this way?

Passing a heavy hand over his face, he continued. “I’m helpless as I watch the demon rip her apart and can only cry out. It’s the most frustratingly agonizing pain I have ever endured. You feel as if the air and life is being slowly sucked out of you, burning every inch of your body inside and out.”

Catlyn’ heart broke as she saw the pain etched in his face. The fierce, confident man she was used to seeing looked so weak and vulnerable right now, she had to fight back the urge to hold him and cradle him like a baby. She wasn’t sure how to react and more importantly, how he would react to her display of sympathy, so with every ounce of self-discipline she could muster, she stayed locked in her place.

“But then, something happened,” he continued, looking up at her with a softer expression, almost of wonder. “Just as I wished for the Maker to take me, I heard a song. A voice. At first I thought it was another demon, desire, perhaps, taunting me. But then I saw a form bathed in green light appear and reach out to me, beckoning me to join her. The sound was so soothing and comforting that at once I knew it couldn’t be evil. I thought maybe it was Andraste, coming to take me to the Fade. Then everything went white and I can’t remember exactly what happened, but I was peaceful. When I woke up, here you were.”

Catlyn swallowed hard and averted his gaze, feeling a tingle as she felt her face flush. “Must have been the elixir,” she mumbled. “It’s very potent.”

Cullden nodded at her thoughtfully, not sure he truly believed that. “What is it exactly? How did you come by it?”

Catlyn shifted, letting some blood flow back into her left side. “It’s a form of healing elixir, though it’s more purifying in nature than a typical healing draught. It’s meant specifically to alleviate the symptoms associated with lyrium withdrawal. By chance, Adan and I had been working on its development,” she looked at him wryly. “I’ll admit you’re a bit of a test subject but if the effects you described are accurate, it seems it may have worked.”

Cullen nodded, his eyes still questioning. “But how did you know about it? I’ve never heard of its existence before. No healer ever mentioned it to me.”

Catlyn laughed drily. “You have Lady Trevelyan to thank for that,” she answered. 

He returned her gaze and nodded in understanding. “I must remember to thank your mother one day,” he smiled weakly.

Catlyn’s heart raced as the thought of anyone from the Inquisition knowing her mother gripped her with fear. She wanted to keep her mother safe and she couldn’t see how her existence being known to anyone could do that. She quickly thought of something else to talk about to try and distract him from that particular notion.

“How long had you been taking lyrium?”

He leaned his head back again, searching for an answer. “I was 18 when I passed my vigil and became a full Templar. It was then that I was given my first draught. The doses were small in the beginning but grew more potent as I matured and grew stronger. So at least a decade now, I suppose.”

Catlyn nodded, somewhat encouraged by his response. The longer the lyrium addiction, the more difficult it was to withdraw from it. The more dangerous as well. Older Templars wanting to retire peacefully were almost impossible to wean. But the Commander likely had less than ten years at full potency, which gave her some hope…

“Did you enjoy Templar life? Seems to me there would have been a lot of vows and restrictions in place.”

“Watching a candle burn down as I memorized the Chant of Transfiguration was probably among my least favourite moments in life,” he chuckled in reply. “But on the whole, before everything at Kinloch, I was very content. I wanted to be the best Templar I could be, to devote my life to service and help maintain safety and order.”

Catlyn lost herself in his face as she listened to him explain to her all about Templar life, his early years training, and the friendships he built among his initiate brothers and sisters. She could tell that despite all the horror he had seen in his life there were still very fond, happy memories that he clung to. She vowed to help him find a way to focus on those memories as he fought through his withdrawal. Soon she found herself gazing at his strong jawline, covered now in small stubble, wondering what its roughness would feel like on her skin, picturing herself drawing her finger over the scar above his impossibly full, soft lips…

“But clearly I’ve bored you with all my blabbering of initiations and vows.”

She snapped out of her reverie, her face flushing slightly. “The vows certainly sound a bit limited,” she replied with a crooked smile. “Seems it limits a range of extracurricular activities that would otherwise be available to young adults.”

Cullen’s eyes twinkled as he laughed in response. “While the vows do require a certain amount of commitment to the Order, they aren’t quite so restrictive. Templars can marry and have a family, though it does require approval. As for other restrictions, those are not mandatory vows to take.”

Catlyn was genuinely surprised. She had never considered the possibility that a Templar could have a personal life condoned outside of the Order. She was suddenly gripped by the thought of the Commander having another life she knew nothing about. “Oh, I didn’t realize,” she stammered. “Did you take those vows?” Her face immediately reddened as the words tumbled out of her mouth before even realizing. Of course he didn’t… Isidora came unpleasantly to mind. She looked down at her hands in embarrassment.

Cullen’s smirk spread despite his best effort to restrain it. He watched her abashed face in amusement. “I took no such vows,” he replied softly. He continued to grin as he returned with a question of his own. “And what of the famed Antivan Crows? Do they take any such similar vows?”

Catlyn looked up at him through her lashes, certain he was enjoying her discomfort. “We may vow to carry out our duties as assassins, to swear by the gods old and new to give our word or our life to the Crows, but that’s about as far as it goes. Crows aren’t exactly well known for their proclivity for being chaste,” she added with a cheeky smile.

Cullen’s honey brown eyes narrowed, one eyebrow slightly raised suggestively. “I’ll bear that in mind, Herald.”

Catlyn swallowed hard and looked away, unable to keep his gaze. Her pulse quickened as her breath hitched slightly. Maker, what was all this about, she wondered, visibly flushed. Desperate to regain control, she smoothed her tunic and got to her feet. “Well Commander, it seems that my work here is done for the time being. You really ought to rest again today if you insist on continuing with this course of action. Not that I object,” she added quickly. “It’s just that lyrium withdrawal is not without its risks and the elixir I gave you will only help manage the symptoms for so long before you need to really focus on a cure. I’ll see to it that you have a supply of it on hand but be careful not to depend on it too much. It’s still a relatively new potion and its long term effects haven’t yet been studied in great depth. We can discuss a course of treatment for you later. For now, rest. Please.” He tone was supplicant.

“I’ll do what I can,” he replied.

“Commander, please,” she begged. “This is almost as dangerous as the demons we face. If you push yourself too hard too fast, you will die. The Inquisition needs you.” She hesitated slightly, “We need you.” I need you , she thought to herself, the admission coming as a shock to her.

He tilted his head in acknowledgment. She returned his nod simply and turned to leave.

“Catlyn,” he called out to her softly. She looked back at him. It was his turn now to look uncomfortable, his face searching for the right words. “Thank you,” he offered simply, but she could feel the weight of his emotions and see the gratitude in his face as he stared back earnestly at her.

“You’re welcome, Cullen,” she replied and left the cabin, closing the door gently behind her. She inhaled deeply, grateful for the cleansing breaths. I’m in trouble, she thought to herself.


	14. Musings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen takes in his changing relationship- and feelings- with the Herald.

The space felt empty as soon as she was gone.

Cullen stretched back out on the cot, crossing his arms behind his head, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. His head no longer throbbed and though he was exhausted, he felt a strange excitement awaken within him. His thoughts went quickly back to the Herald- Catlyn. The first thing he had registered when he came to was the warmth of her arm over his chest, the way her hand clutched his side protectively. He could still feel exactly where her hand had rested as she slept. She had looked so peaceful. Her pale, alabaster skin reflecting in the candlelight had looked so soft and smooth he had to fight back the urge to stroke it. His mind had raced when he realized she had stayed by his bedside. After everything that had passed between them, he didn’t think she could ever care enough about his well-being. He had hoped, but…

Maker, what must she think? His thoughts turned to despair as he considered what she would have witnessed. He had never meant for her- for any of them- to see him so weak. How could he ever hope to command the Inquisition army when he was so obviously defeated by himself? By his dreams? He knew he won some respect from his captains for simply having the courage to attempt abandoning the lyrium but the cost suddenly seemed too great. Maybe it was a mistake. Even Catlyn had chastised him for doing it alone. She seemed to know more about the withdrawal effects than she let on. Maybe he should rethink this…

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Just a minute,” he called out, swinging himself out of bed and reaching for his cloak. He realized that he had been covered in a beautiful fur-lined cloak with the symbol of the Inquisition emblazoned on its back. The Herald’s cloak, he realized. Suddenly embarrassed by its presence in his room. He quickly folded it up and hid it under his bed, quickly trying to figure out how he would get it back to her without raising eyebrows. He pulled on his own travel cloak to break some of the chill in the air and opened the door. The Seeker was waiting for him impatiently, arms crossed.

“May I come in?” Though she asked, her question gave no indication that it could be refused, so he stepped aside and let her pass.

“I spoke to the Herald just now. She said your fever broke and she has given you a supply of new medication you are meant to use only as a last resort. She seemed very concerned that you had not reached out for more support. I assured her you had the matter well in hand. I trust I was not lying to her, Commander.”

“I can endure, Seeker.” He felt the heat of the lie burning his tongue as the words came out. He could endure, would have to, but Maker this was becoming more difficult. “The nightmares have worsened but have not yet progressed to hallucinations. With Andraste’s mercy, they won’t ever.”

Cassandra’s look didn’t do much to inspire confidence. Still, she said nothing to indicate she felt otherwise. “We agreed to check in regarding any developments. Perhaps I have been neglectful in my duty,” she finally replied. “I admire your courage in the path you have chosen. You have done nothing yet to make me feel differently. Still, it would be good to keep me abreast of any changes in your condition so that I can be better prepared for episodes such as last night. It’s not unfortunate the Herald now knows, especially given her knowledge of the issue. But the fewer people aware of the details, the better.”

Cullen nodded his head in agreement. “I will do a better job of keeping you informed Seeker. I value your support.” His eyes told the truth. Though he expected her to leave, she remained, staring at him quizzically, her eyes lost in thought.

“I am happy to see that you seem to have taken my advice and made peace with the Herald, Commander. Everyone has noticed the relative peace.” She uncrossed her arms and sighed. “Despite her unfair treatment by all of us in the beginning, she has proven to be a worthy ally and leader of the Inquisition. Perhaps the kind we have been looking for,” she suggested. “Though she has a strong will and has demonstrated a keen ability to make sound, balanced decisions, it is her ability to recruit people to our cause that is so remarkable. When we are out in the field, whether it’s the love and devotion of tired, hungry refugees, or forming alliances win the most unsuspecting of places, she garners respect effortlessly. I never would have expected that.”

Cullen considered what the Seeker was saying carefully. He couldn’t help but agree. All the reports back spoke of the success she had and the Inquisition’s growing coffers spoke volumes of her work. He felt at once guilty of his initial treatment of her and proud that he stood by her side in this mission. Perhaps there was hope yet.

The two stood in silence for a moment before the Seeker politely excused herself, recommending to him that he take the morning to rest following the ordeal he had endured. “If what the Herald says is true, you have not yet reached the bottom and we still have need of you yet,” she offered by way of farewell.

Cullen ran his hand over his brow and sighed. His stomach had finally risen and declared itself ravenous. He decided to bathe first and make himself somewhat presentable before facing the prying eyes outside, though little could be done of the dark circles under his eyes. Still, appearances meant a great deal when it came to instilling confidence in the troops. Although he may not feel so fearless and resilient, he had to at least look the part. He opened his door, the bright light initially blinding him, before calling over to a recruit and ordering some hot water to be brought to him. The recruit nodded enthusiastically and set off upon his task. As an afterthought, he called out to him for some bread and cheese and for the day’s reports to be brought to him as well. Then he returned to the darkness of his cabin and sat down at his desk. His eyes drifted over to the slight bit of cloak hidden under his bed that was sticking out. He reached down and pulled it out, running his hands over its softness, relishing the smell. He tentatively brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, the fresh scent of honey and cut grass enveloping him like a blanket. Her scent, he thought, and his mind drifted gently back to the memory of her sweet voice singing out to him in his dream, banishing the darkness and bringing him to the light as he desperately fought for his freedom.


	15. In Your Heart Shall Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haven falls.

She stood once again at the site of the explosion but this time surrounded by friends. Cassandra and Solas were with her. The elf had just finished explaining to her once more what needed to be done. She took a deep, steadying breath, doing very little to slow her racing heart. This is it, she thought. One last time and I’ll be through with this. Everything will go back to normal and I can go home.

Home. Though she longed to see her mother, she had grown so much in the past months that she didn’t know what home still held for her. With the Trevelyans dealt with and Gaspar gone, much of the anger that had fuelled her desire to join the Crows had burnt out. The words of a certain commander also filled her head and she found herself eager to put that part of her away now. She had always felt she could do more in the world to help and the idea of making a difference, restoring peace and order, replaced her anger as a new fuel for her fire. Now, with the breach sealed, what would happen to the Inquisition? Would they need her without her mark? Would they have need for a simple assassin? Would she be cast aside? Surely they could find others more skilled and knowledgeable than she to help lead their cause.

And what about Cullen? As if it weren’t even humanly possible, her heart beat even faster when she thought of him. He could die without proper help. She had yet to hear of one positive case of successful lyrium withdrawal. Some managed but were horribly changed. Most never made it at all. If anyone could help him, she knew who that person would be. Perhaps once the breach was closed and peace restored, it would be safe to suggest it. Maybe they would keep her around just for that. The Commander was invaluable to the Inquisition and it was in their best interest to keep him healthy. It would also give her the chance to prove just how helpful she could be. Make her mother proud. Make herself proud, for that matter, and make up for all the mistakes she had made.

She took another deep breath, met Cassandra’s intent gaze, and gave a nod. The Seeker moved and called forth on the mages to focus on her, and Solas joined in guiding their will.

Catlyn braced herself and stepped forward, reaching out to the sky with all her strength and summoned a huge channel of magic that forced her down into the ground. The pain seared through her arm like a thousand flaming knives but she gritted her teeth and stood her ground, focussing her will on knitting the two sides of the opening together. She felt the pressure build until it finally burst above her, sending a massive shockwave across the floor of the charred ruins. She was flung through the air, landing roughly on her feet as she stumbled back and rolled to the ground, her training bringing her to her knees in an instant. She sat, kneeled, for what felt like an age before slowly rising to her feet and locking eyes with the Seeker who rushed over to her side. A small smile triumphed on her lips.

The crowd around her erupted in cheers as the eerie green glow in the sky disappeared. Loud as it was, it didn’t completely drum out the ringing in her ears as she stared down at the swirling green light beneath her left palm. Perhaps it wasn’t over just yet…

\---

The celebrations engulfed the entire village. Though some celebrated more enthusiastically than others, such as Sera, Varric, Bull and the Chargers (truly, they brought new meaning to the expression “drink you under the table”), even more unlikely revellers were seen smiling in a tankard. Adan’s usually cranky disposition had sweetened to the point of friendly, much to Catlyn’s amusement. She had gotten through his shell easily enough, but she was largely alone in that respect. Even reserved Master Dennet was spinning arm-in-arm with some young woman around the campfire as the villagers laughed and danced the night away.

Still feeling somewhat restless following the events of the day, Catlyn was content to sit back and watch the festivities from the ramparts overlooking the tavern. Josephine had even loosened the Inquisition’s purse strings and had started a tab at the bar, much to Flissa’s delight, though Catlyn suspected Leliana’s involvement in easing the ambassador and unofficial treasurer’s iron fist. She smiled as she watched Sera attempt to coax Bull into a semblance of a dance, though his lumbering figure swayed in such a way as to suggest intoxication rather than rhythm. 

“Not partaking in the festivities are you?” Cullen’s voice startled her from her thoughts as he came to stand beside her. He smiled down at her. “Can’t say I blame you. I would make Iron Bull’s dancing look like a waltz in comparison, drink or not,” he smirked.

Catlyn laughed and the smiled she earned in return was disarming. Since that night she had spent at his bedside, they hadn’t had more than a few seconds alone together, usually on their way to or from a War Council session. She wasn’t sure what to make of the furtive glances he stole of her. Surely he wasn’t afraid. She had done nothing to harm him. She had also not breathed a word of his withdrawal and symptoms to anyone aside from Cassandra. She knew how important it was for him to be seen as strong and in control. Surely he didn’t still have any doubts regarding her intentions? Not after everything that had passed between them since her return from the Free Marches. Any apprehension she might have felt melted away as he spoke.

“I wanted to thank you for everything that you’ve done for the Inquisition. For me,” he added shyly. “You’ve never denied what we’ve asked of you even though we were all undeserving at first. Myself probably most of all,” he looked away and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. As if desperate to pull her attention away from his admission, he pulled out a folded cloak out from behind him and handed it to her quickly. “Here. I’ve been meaning to return this to you, though I struggled to find an opportunity that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows,” he looked away abashedly. She had no idea that his reluctance to return it had more to do with giving up the one item he held that reminded him or her, her scent, and that he held it at night so that the memory of her singing to him, which helped keep the nightmares at bay, was stronger. Instead, she assumed that his desire for discretion had more to do with wanting to keep things professional and his secret hidden than it did with him wanting to keep it for his own selfish reasons. She politely accepted the cloak and placed it around her shoulders. 

“Thank you. It’s my favourite and I’m happy to have it back.”

He remained at her side and turned to watch the celebrations below. After a silence he cleared his throat and asked, “So, do you have any plans now that the Breach is sealed?”

Catlyn shook her head as she watched the people milling about. “Not really, no. I suppose I may stick around Haven a bit longer. The mages are here and I could really use more insight as to the origins and power of this mark. I thought it would have disappeared once the breach was sealed. I haven’t yet been able to speak to Solas about it. Perhaps he would have a suggestion.” She was surprised to see Cullen look almost relieved that she intended to stay. Her stomach fluttered slightly in response.

“The breach may be sealed, but there is still work left to be done. The Chantry is in a mess and we still have little idea of what the Templars are doing,” he smiled ruefully. “We can still use all the help we can get.”

She smiled more widely now and was about to reply when she was cut off by a howl from below.

“Curly you tight-assed nug, get down here and drink with us like a man! Your balls will thank us for it later!” Varric hollered at him before turning on Catlyn. “Come on Snips, you too! You still owe me another round of bloody knuckles!”

The pair both laughed as the barrel-chested dwarf continued shouting profanities at them from below. Finally Cullen relented. “Well, I do believe my honour as a man is being questioned as we speak. Though admittedly, the reputation of the accuser is suspect,” he grinned. “Coming down?” he asked, offering his arm.

Catlyn smiled but wasn’t quite ready to join the crowd just yet. “Thank you,” she replied politely, “but the last time I played bloody knuckles with Varric I woke up forgetting my own name.” Cullen laughed in response. “You go ahead, I’ll be down shortly.”

Cullen politely nodded in farewell, holding her gaze just long enough to awaken that familiar butterfly in her stomach. She watched as he strode down the hill, every inch the Commander, without any trace of the vulnerable man she had witnessed that one night. She suddenly wanted more desperately than ever to help him be rid of that weakness and help him conquer the shades of his past that refused to let him be free. It didn’t seem right that after all he had given the Inquisition, to the Templars, that he should have to face this alone. He struck her as a man who would do the same for his friends should they face a similar road. Perhaps now with the breach sealed, she could reach out to her mother…

Her thoughts were once again interrupted as the Seeker strode up beside her. 

“Solas confirms that the heavens are scarred but calm. The breach is sealed,” Cassandra smiled at her and paused. Catlyn could sense something else was on the woman’s mind but relief still flooded her as the confirmation sunk in. The breach was sealed. They were safe.

Cassandra looked down at the crowds. “We’ve reports of lingering rifts and many questions remain, but this was a victory,” she smirked. “Word of your heroism has spread.”

Catlyn barked out a laugh. “My heroism? You know as well as I that it took more than just me to seal the breach.” She stared down at the swirls of green. “I may have the mark, but I could never have done it without everyone’s support and guidance. The battles along the way were fought and won by all of us. Luck put me at the centre.”

“A strange kind of luck. I’m not sure if we need more of it or less,” she replied grimly. “But you’re right. This was a victory of alliances. One of the few in recent memory.” She turned to look at Catlyn, her gaze intent. “That alliance will need new focus.”

Catlyn looked at her questioningly. New focus, perhaps, but how did she fit in? She had neither the background nor the experience that Cassandra and the other advisors did. What did they need her for now? She tried to stamp out the seed of hope that was beginning to grow inside her. Maybe they saw something she didn’t. Maybe they could use her. Catlyn couldn’t help but want desperately now to stay and help, but was it too much to ask… too much to hope for?

Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing alarm bells. Catlyn’s blood ran cold as she heard Cullen’s voice rise above the rest, calling people to arms. What seconds ago had been a flurry of joyous activity suddenly became a frenzy of scurrying masses scrambling to find their weapons and armour, sobering any effects the merriment may have had in an instant.

“We must get to the gates!” Cassandra rushed off, leaving a dumbstruck Herald of Andraste standing in her wake. Maker preserve them, what was going on now?

\---

Red Templars were everywhere. She heard Bull’s maul bash into the side of one of their helms behind her as she lodged her daggers into the back of another before he cut down Varric who was desperately reloading Bianca. Once their path was clear, they rushed over to the tavern. Catlyn didn’t hesitate before she dove into the burning building. She had heard someone say that Flissa was still trapped in there and she refused to leave a single living person behind. She ignored Bull’s cry as she moved deeper into the room, shielding her face from the flames and coughing as the thick smoke burned her lungs. Sure enough, she spotted Flissa lying on the floor. She rushed over and started pulling on the woman’s arms, trying to brace herself as she lifted her up. Luckily Flissa came to ever so slightly and had enough will to ease her weight on Catlyn’s shoulders as she helped her hobble out the back door. Two Inquisition soldiers came running when they heard Bull yell out and Catlyn handed the bartender over to them as she and the others rushed up the steps towards the apothecary. She had to make sure that Adan had gotten out safely. She was sure she had seen him rush back to his cabin, no doubt to grab whatever supplies he could. 

As they neared the top of the steps, Catlyn cursed as she saw the flames slowly engulfing the pots of exploding potion Adan had just mixed the other day which were awaiting transport to a safer location. She had told him not to make so much all at once but he had insisted that it was easier to brew in bigger batches. She saw Minaeve lying on the ground next to them first and rushed over to her, shaking her gently but with determination to get her to respond. The woman stirred slowly. Catlyn knew she wasn’t nearly as conscious as Flissa had been. 

“Bull! Over here!” she called out. Bull rushed over and effortlessly picked the woman up and threw her over his shoulder. Catlyn’s eyes searched frantically for Adan. She spotted him just as she heard the familiar shriek the exploding potion let out before it popped.

“Snips! Get down!” Varric tackled her to the ground just as the pots closest to Adan burst into a flaming stream up in the air, setting off each subsequent pot one by one. Catlyn scrambled to her feet and looked over in horror to see any hope of saving her friend explode into a red inferno.

“No!” she called out in a strangled cry, tears springing to her eyes as Varric gently forced her away from the scene and back up towards the Chantry. Catlyn’s heart broke and her rage seethed through every inch of her body. Whoever was doing this was going to pay dearly. Of that she was certain.

\---

An archdemon. A massive, hulking, grotesque creature controlling the archdemon. Catlyn felt as if she were caught in a nightmare not unlike the stories she begged her mother to read her as a child. If she wasn’t already throbbing in pain from the battle they were fighting, she would have pinched herself. But this was no dream.

“What of it Cullen? Can you get them out?” That arrogant zealot Chancellor Roderick had provided them with possibly the only chance of getting the Inquisition out of Haven alive. Catlyn was determined to save as many people as she could. Much like that time as a girl she found herself cornered in an alley with no way out, she wasn’t going down without a fight. 

Cullen furrowed his brow. “Possibly, if he shows us the path,” his tone clearly indicating she was not the only one to distrust him. “But what of your escape?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

She remained silent, not trusting herself to speak. There was only one option. Fire the remaining trebuchet and bury the village. No one left would survive, of that she was sure. As the face of each and every one of her friends flashed before her eyes, she knew what she had to do.

She stood still, barely registering the commands Cullen barked around her. She had faced death before and some things even worse. She had trained to look it straight in the eye. She would not have word reach back to her mother that she had not fought valiantly with her chin held high. She wanted her to be proud of her memory.

Cullen walked back towards her. “They’ll load the trebuchets. Keep the Elder One’s attention until we are above the tree line.” He stopped, his voice catching in his throat. Catlyn looked at his face and could see a struggle, an inner conflict he was fighting. Her resolve weakened slightly as she realized this was goodbye.

“If we are to have any chance- if you are to have a chance- then let that thing hear you,” he dropped his voice to a whisper. He looked down, no longer able to meet her eyes and turned to go.

“Cullen!” she called out to him. He stopped and turned to face her, pain in his eyes. “I want everyone out. Do not let anyone stay behind for me. Do you understand? Not. A. Single. Person.” The look in her eyes spoke volumes. He nodded his head and turned to go once more, leaving her to stand along, watching his figure grow smaller as he moved to take this place at the front of the retreat.

\---

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

She had managed to get Cassandra, Dorian and Varric to get out of the path of the dragon and back up to the Chantry, promising to follow. The words felt hollow as they left her. The first time she openly lied to a friend and it may have been her last words. She hoped they would forget that easily. Or at least forgive.

But now, if she failed at getting to the trebuchet, everything would have been in vain. As she dangled from the grasp of the rambling darkspawn in front of her, all her thoughts went to trying to get herself free long enough to launch the trebuchet. He could have her and the anchor and whatever else he needed. Her world would be blighted if she couldn’t get her friends out alive.

Catlyn cried out in pain as Corypheus tossed her against the wooden beams of the trebuchet. She slid to the ground in a crumpled heap. Still, she exulted. You can do this Cat, she mumbled to herself, willing every muscle in her body to perform this one last act. As she looked up to face the figure approaching her, she saw a single torch fly through the night sky. It was all she needed to draw herself to act one last time.

“You expect us to surrender and kneel. We will not. You’ll face us all- when we choose!” 

With a resounding leap, she launched herself at the chains of the trebuchet, swinging the sword she had found at it with every ounce of strength she had left. She cried out both in pain and triumph as the machine launched itself into action, gracefully arcing the last boulder into the air and hitting the mountainside. Distracted by her actions, Corypheus and his dragon watched in anger as the avalanche was brought down upon the village. Seizing her opportunity, she took off running, launching herself at the last second down an old mineshaft she had passed many times on her walks through the village. The last thing she remembered was flying through the air before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose to stick to the version of my latest DA:I playthrough. I hadn't meant for Adan to die but I missed saving him by a second. I felt instead of trying it over again, I would just go with it. Admittedly it has changed my future story line a touch, but not significanly.


	16. Say Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's hope is running out. Luckily for him, Catlyn's determination is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will have noticed that I alternate POV between Cullen and Catlyn. I found this particular sequence hard to write from one POV only, so decided to alternate. There will be a few key plot points in the fic that I choose to do this with.
> 
> And- for any Canucks out there, specifically those who watched ROD on CBC...  
> In the season finale of the second last season, Jake rescues Leslie to the tune of "Say Something" by A Great Big World. I thought it was a great choice for what could have been a tragic ending.  
> I was inspired by its use when writing this chapter!  
> For those of you who have no clue what I'm talking about, no need to Google the episode or anything. The song more or less speaks for itself.

They all stood frozen watching as the mountainside came down upon the attacking forces, burying the village and everything in its path completely. They saw the form of the great dragon flying off in retreat with the Elder One clutched in its talons. Though it indicated they were safe for the time being, it also meant one thing: the Herald was gone.

Cullen stood transfixed, a heaviness in his chest threatening to cut off his air supply. For what seemed like an eternity, no one moved and the only sound to be heard was the rumbling of the snow settling over the village. He felt a hand on his shoulder pull him away.

“Commander, we need to keep moving,” Leliana’s voice registered in his mind barely perceptibly. As he indicated to his captains they should continue, he felt like an outsider standing in, watching him make the motions but hardly registering that they came from his own will. It was as if he were trapped in a nightmare with his eyes wide open. Perhaps I have progressed to hallucinations, he thought to himself, though the looks on his companions’ faces were all too raw not to be real.

He kept them moving forward, breaking briefly once they were well out of view of the village to light a few small fires and let the villagers and forces rest. The snow was thick and deep and they moved slowly. The women and children found it especially difficult to manage, as did the small number of livestock and mounts they managed to herd out of the valley. Cullen stood by a fire, staring aimlessly into the flames as Leliana approached him.

“We need to keep moving, Commander. We need to find some kind of shelter where we can regroup. If it not safe up here in the mountains,” she spoke softly, not wanting to raise panic among the people.

“What if there are survivors,” he replied stubbornly. “If we go too far, there’s little chance of them finding us.” He wasn’t prepared to give up all hope just yet.

Leliana looked at him pityingly. “You know as well as I do that no one could have survived that avalanche. Besides, with tracks as big as ours, our route would be hard to miss, which is why we need to seek shelter and get out of here as fast as we can. It will only be a matter of time before the Elder One comes searching.”

Though it pained him to admit, he knew she was right. He nodded silently and went to his remaining captains and gave them orders to continue their trek. The Herald had given her life for theirs. The least they could do was honour her sacrifice and continue on.

\---

Catlyn awoke to the sound of water dripping. She lay on the ground, slowly regaining consciousness, feeling the blood rush through her. Her breathing was heavy and laboured- but she was breathing. She opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. She had indeed fallen into a mine shaft and the old scaffolding had broken her fall. She winced as she sat up, her body screaming in protest. Her shoulder felt dislocated but her arms and legs didn’t feel broken. She pushed herself to her feet, fighting back the wave of nausea that came over her. She was concussed for sure, but otherwise in pretty good shape, all things considered. Her thoughts were drawn to the mark on her hand which was still there but felt different somehow. Before it only felt as if she could draw in power to seal things. Now, it was as if she could sense an ability to push the power out.

She looked around and saw an old tunnel that must lead out of the shaft. Well, I guess there’s really only one way to go, she thought, as always. Forward.

\---

They had not gone much farther when the Maker had mercy on them and they found themselves in the shelter of a cliffside, out of the path of the howling wind. A storm was coming and the wind had picked up as they journeyed up the mountainside, bitingly cold as it whipped around them. The rocks provided respite from the great snow drifts that were threatening to bury them alive. Cullen gave the order to setup camp and the people immediately sprang into action. Fires were lit and tents were setup to tend to the wounded first. Water skins and rations were passed around to tide the refugees over until a better plan could be established. Their hasty departure left them with very little but their lives and they couldn’t afford to be trapped in the mountains long. Still, Cullen was heartened to see how the troops set about to their tasks in an organized and disciplined fashion. It seemed some of his hard work had paid off.

Satisfied that matters were being handled by his delegates, Cullen walked to the edge of the encampment, staring out at their path which had been erased by the drifts of snow. Any hope he might have had of someone following them was gone, though it helped a little to know that this offered them some protection as well. Regardless, the consolation tasted bitter in his mouth.

He didn’t even glance over as Dorian took his place at his side. “That minx told me she never lied. But she promised me she would follow,” he laughed bitterly. “When we see her next, I will be sure to take her over my knee and spank her.” Cullen watched as the mage hung his head low and fought back a sob. “She is a singular woman, our Herald.”

Though normally bitter towards the mage’s relationship with the Herald, Cullen felt too hollow to be filled with resentment. Instead, the two stood solemnly side by side, each respectful of the loss the other felt.

\---

Catlyn fell to her knees as the force of the rift she had opened– and closed- threatened to exhaust her completely. Her mind raced as the implications of this new power sunk in. What was that? Where did those creatures go? Whatever it was, it just saved her hide and relief washed over her like a cleansing wave of energy. She stood up once more and headed towards the mouth of the tunnel, wrapping her cloak tightly around her. She’d have to thank Cullen for returning it to her at such an opportune moment.

A blast of freezing air lashed at her face, stinging her skin and bringing tears to her eyes. As she adjusted to the night sky, she fought to regain her bearings. She was on a cliffside, that much she could tell, but she had no idea where the tunnel emptied out. Which way was Haven? Down? To the side? She gave up, knowing it would be futile to attempt figuring it out. She couldn’t stay here and wait without freezing to death. The only logical path was to go up the mountainside in the hopes that it was the same side the Chantry path had led up. She started out and immediately sank into a drift. Maker’s breath, she cursed. I’ll be up to my waist in snow at this rate. A pair of amber eyes shone in her mind as a beacon and she strengthened her resolve, using them as a guide to lead her forward.

After what seemed an eternity, she finally came across some remnants of a fire. Footprints were barely visible, but charred remains stuck out of a smaller drift indicating someone had passed through here. Although it may have been hunters, Catlyn had to hope it was more than that. She needed to believe she was on the right path. My mother will never rest without my ashes, she thought to herself, willing herself to move on. 

Her body trembled and her lungs heaved with every breath she took as she trudged doggedly through the snow. She could no longer feel her hands and even the pain from the mark seemed dulled. She fell to her knees once more as she sank deep into a drift. Andraste, she pleaded, if that was you at the Conclave, please don’t forsake me now… Give me strength, guide me, send me a sign…

She heard a lone howl in the distance and looked up. For a second she swore she saw a light, but it was hard to tell with all the swirling snow. She dragged herself to her feet and looked out, shielding her eyes. She swore she saw a flicker again. That’s it, she thought, I’m dying. Might as well get to heaven’s gates instead of wandering the Void forever. She trudged on towards a break in the cliffside, following the flicker like a beacon. It seemed to grow as she pushed forward. As she came through the opening and around the side, a dark figure materialized in front of her. She gasped as the silhouette turned to face her. It must be the Maker, she thought to herself. But as she took two steps further, she could just make out the outline of a furry mantle around its neck.

“Cullen,” she whispered and fell to her knees, blackness enveloping her once more.

\---

He only left the edge of camp to speak to his captains and give them further instructions. Otherwise, that was his station. No one chose to bother him, save Dorian who maintained a similar vigil several paces away. Though he sympathized with the man, for he had been her friend and perhaps more, it was his own pain that absorbed him. Why was he cursed with such bad luck. Before it had been losing Isidora at Kinloch. They had just admitted their feelings to one another when the Circle fell and she was taken violently away from him. Now, after having been blinded at first, he could finally see how much he cared for the young assassin who had fallen into their laps. Now she was gone as well. Served him right, he figured, for the way he had treated her from the start. He was never deserving of her affection to begin with.

Still, he was so wracked with pain he assumed he was seeing visions when a figure appeared out of thin air twenty paces ahead of him. Whether he had willed her to appear or if it were a demon’s cruel joke, he swore he heard her voice whisper his name, snapping him for his reverie. He rushed over to catch her as she collapsed, his strong arms scooping her up as if she were a small child. He cradled her in his arms as relief and joy flooded his body. He steadied himself and turned toward camp, clutching her protectively to his chest. He could hear the cries of the others, saw them rushing to his side, but he marched steadily onwards to his own tent, not trusting to stop for fear someone might take her away. In that moment he vowed never to let the events of that night happen again.

As he reached his tent he barked an order to a soldier not to let anyone pass, a suddenly feral protectiveness lashing out from within him. He pushed back the flap and lay her limp body gently down on his bedroll, quickly taking her slender wrist in his hand and feeling for a pulse. It felt as if he were touching an ice block, she was so cold. Her unusual birthmark was barely visible on the paleness of her skin. Maker please, don’t take her yet. His heart leapt as he found a pulse, albeit a weak one.

He was momentarily distracted by the sound of Dorian’s voice at his tent. “Unless you want your balls on fire, you will let me pass,” he hissed at the solider barring his way. Evidently the threat of burning scrotum was strong enough to persuade the solider to let him by. Cullen made a mental note to speak to his captains about better training of recruits. If every solider balked at the threat of their genitalia being harmed, they wouldn’t stand a chance against the enemy.

Still, his concern for Catlyn outweighed his resentment of the man and he didn’t object to his presence, even when Dorian came in and knelt by her side and moving Cullen out of the way, taking her small hand in his instead.

“You stupid, selfless woman,” he murmured to her still unconscious body. “You didn’t make it this far only to die in our arms. Live, damnit, live,” he bowed his head and inhaled sharply, fighting back the lump forming in his throat. He turned to look over at Cullen who sat motionless. His face etched with concern. “We need furs, Commander,” he said, a sense of urgency in his otherwise surprisingly gentle tone. “And a healer. This is not my area of expertise and if she has any hope of survival, we can’t bar those who can help her from coming in.”

Cullen’s eyes fixed Dorian’s and he became aware of the raised voices coming from outside his tent. Evidently the soldier’s backbone had thawed and he was presently preventing both the First Enchanter and Mother Giselle from entering.

He stood up and in two steps had opened the tent flap to allow the two women to enter, giving further instructions to the soldier to fetch every fur and blanket he could find. As he turned to duck back in, he caught the Seeker’s worried look and returned it with one of his own, indicating the situation was grave but not yet lost.

Back in the tent the women worked quickly to assess the damage. Catlyn lay on the bedroll covered in a blue glow as the women quickly stripped her bare. Dorian had moved out of the way and was busy heating a bowl of water with his hands. The mage smirked as he noticed a red flush creeping up Cullen’s face.

“Come now Commander. First time seeing a woman naked? And here I thought that wasn’t one of the Templar vows you took,” he teased.

Cullen’s face darkened in response. “Though I won’t speak for others in the room, I’m not accustomed to being in the presence of the women I work with in a state of undress.”

Dorian chuckled. “Believe me, Commander, I’m sure you are enjoying this far more than I.”

“Are you quite finished gentlemen?” the First Enchanter’s voice broke the tension. “Lord Pavus, the water please, if you would be so kind,” Vivienne reached out with her hand for the bowl.

“Of course Madam,” Dorian replied, managing a contrite smile. He handed her the bowl and retreated slightly to the side and out of the way, maintaining eyesight of the Herald.

Cullen remained in his position blocking the doorway, still flustered by Dorian’s remarks. What exactly had he meant by that? The Herald and mage were well-known to be very close. Perhaps too close for his own comfort, though the thought confused him more than anything else.

The First Enchanter’s voice broke his thoughts. “She is stable. For now. Her breathing is no longer laboured,” she looked down at the woman, her eyes soft and her voice hushed. “It is truly a miracle she made it out of there alive. It appears the frostbite is the worst of it and her dislocated shoulder. She needs much rest. Mother Giselle can handle any immediate care she may need at this point.” She looked more pointedly at the Commander before continuing, “The others will need to be informed of her status.”

Cullen returned her stare with disinterest. “That they do. I have no doubt that you will provide them with a fulsome and accurate report.”

Vivienne held his gaze, assessing just how serious he was and what, perhaps, his intentions may be. He was, after all, Commander of the Inquisition, and the safety of the Herald was of utmost concern to him. “Of course, Commander,” she sighed, sensing her dismissal. “I shall do so at once.” She gracefully left the tent leaving Mother Giselle kneeling beside the Herald to tend to her. As she left, a soldier approached with an armful of blankets and furs. Cullen accepted them gratefully from him and passed some to Mother Giselle. The two of them arranged the blankets snugly around the Herald’s small frame, shielding her from the cold.

After a few awkward minutes, Mother Giselle’s quiet voice broke the silence. “Madam de Fer had the right of it in her assessment. All we can do is wait until the Herald wakes and gives us some sign of her needs.”

As if prompted by her statement, Catlyn stirred in her bedroll, shrugging off the blankets slightly in the process, groaning softly. Though her voice was barely audible, her murmured words screamed inside his head. “Cullen… Cullen…” His name on her lips stirred the very put of his stomach and in two strides he was by her side, kneeling and reaching out for her hand. It wasn’t nearly as cold as before and the milky white mark on her wrist shone more brightly than it had earlier. He was at once keenly aware of the softness of her smooth, alabaster skin which was exposed on her neck and shoulders. Cullen fought to keep his eyes at a respectable location, despite how inviting the path trailing down her neckline led him. He lowered her arm and covered her up tightly around the neck, though not completely relinquishing his grasp of her hand. She sighed contentedly and snuggled back down peacefully into the furs, her chest rising and falling slowly but steadily.

As he sat watching her, near death pale and so fragile, feelings of guilt washed over him. He was responsible for the Inquisition’s safety. Perhaps if he had more scouts out watching for potential attackers, they could have had more time to plan a better evacuation and avoided the risk she had taken altogether. To think that he had been ready to admit defeat and doom them all… She had been so selfless in risking her own life to save them. Why hadn’t he done that? She possessed an inner strength and generosity that humbled them all. He didn’t deserve her safe return, though he thanked the Maker for it. The darkness of his mind began to weigh him down, the demons that haunted him knocking down his defences. The thought of losing her protection, like she had offered that night in his cabin, spun into a nightmare once more. He gritted his teeth as he tried to fight them out of his mind.

“You bear a sense of responsibility and guilt that is not fair, not worthy of you, Commander.” Mother Giselle’s words caused him to flinch. Evidently his feelings were apparent on his face. She continued softly, “The Herald gave herself freely knowing the risk and sacrifice she took. You did not send her to her death. She chose to face the demon herself. Losing yourself to despair will not avenge her sacrifice. Be strong, as she was.”

Mother Giselle’s words struck him. He needed to be strong. He needed to prove that he was worthy of her sacrifice, her care. 

“She shouted at us to get out of the way,” Dorian spoke quietly, “when she saw the archdemon bearing down on us. Do you know she actually threatened me with her own dagger?” Dorian chuckled softly. “She was going to do this, alone, and she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

Cullen looked up at the two individuals with haunted eyes. He nodded solemnly, accepting what they both said. They had all acted in the best interests of the Inquisition and in their own way. To look back and question everything wouldn’t do anything constructive. Blame needn’t be lain where it wasn’t deserved.

“If I may, Commander, I would like to administer another healing draught,” Mother Giselle spoke, laying a hand on his arm as she knelt beside him. He nodded and ceded his place, reluctantly relinquishing the Herald’s now warm hand.

As he stood up, his eyes met Dorian’s once more. He realized the mage had been watching him, a knowing smirk dancing on his lips. Cullen suddenly felt very exposed and drew himself up defiantly, not wanting to appear weak in front of the competition. 

“We’ve done all we can, gentlemen. Her life is in the Maker’s hands now.” She looked at both of them, “You should both get some rest.”

“Thank you, Mother. I will send word if her condition changes,” Cullen replied simply.

Mother Giselle looked at him for a moment before nodding her head, acknowledging her dismissal. She left the tent quietly, leaving the two men standing facing each other. They stood locked in a stare, neither one ready to relinquish their ground.

Finally, Dorian sighed heavily, breaking the deadlock. “You will call me if anything changes?” he stated, exasperation in his tone. Cullen nodded. Dorian looked over once more at the sleeping woman before taking his leave.

Just before reaching the tent flap, he turned and paused, hesitating slightly. “I think you mistake my intentions, Commander, but know this. I was not blinded by her position as you were in the beginning. I have always seen her for what she truly is- a remarkable, strong, selfless woman. You seem a fair and honourable man and we all make mistakes. But know that she was undeserving of your treatment and I will personally see that you suffer if she is ever wronged like that again.” Cullen stared at the man, wide-eyed. Dorian continued, a warning laced in his words. “She is a fine woman Commander. Her heart is bigger than us all, but she is fragile. Be careful with her.” With that, he swept out of the tent, leaving a silenced Commander in his wake.

He stood frozen, thoughts racing through his mind. Mistake his intentions? What did he mean by that? He saw the way they were together, how they walked closely, arms often intertwined, the warm looks cast across the dinner table, laughter and banter always passing between them. It was obvious they cared for one another. Though he would never admit it, the Tevinter was a handsome man. It was only natural, given all the time they spent together on the road, that they would develop a relationship. 

Why did that bother Cullen so much? He had never been a jealous man before, never coveted anything. His feelings towards the Herald had been anything but warm initially, though given everything that had transpired since then, he only felt remorse and regret for his initial reaction. It was fair to say that he felt something very different for her now. Even after having seen him in one of his weakest moments, it hadn’t seemed to have changed the way she saw him. She still valued his opinion, treated him with respect, and had even kept it secret from the inner circle. He wasn’t worthy of that, after everything they had been through.

Sighing, he ran his hand over his tired eyes and moved to sit beside her once more, acutely aware of how his armour dug into his side as he half lay beside her. He dismissed the discomfort, knowing he was lucky even to be alive because of the woman who lay defenceless beside him. He gazed down at her face and this time couldn’t resist tucking a stray lock behind her ear, brushing his fingers gently across her cheeks. His heart swelled as she seemed to smile under his touch. Maker what a perfect creature, he thought. How could he have been so blind before?

The events of the past two days finally overwhelmed him and sleep weighed heavily on his lids. Finally unable to fight it any longer, Cullen lay himself down completely beside her and succumbed to sleep. This time there were no demons threatening his dreams, only a pair of cat’s eyes staring at him, watching over him protectively.


	17. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn wakes up and sees that Cullen has returned the favour.

The screech of a dragon's cry rang through her ears and the smell of acrid, sulphurous smoke overwhelmed her sense. A twisted hand, glowing red, reached out for her. The mark on her hand seared in response as she fought back to keep from being pulled in…

Catlyn gasped and sat up with a jolt, the cool air around her filling her lungs and bringing her back to reality. She looked around and quickly saw that she was in a tent, covered in furs. I’m alive, she thought to herself, an exultant smile spreading across her face. She licked her lips and tasted the remnants of elfroot and prophet’s laurel, a basic health potion that was adequate enough, but she made a mental note to find a reliable source of arbour blessing.

As her body relaxed, her thoughts wandered to the heaviness she felt across her abdomen. She looked down and noticed the arm of an armoured man lying across her. Though it was hard to make out much of anything in the darkness of the tent, she followed it back to its source that featured a furry mantle. She smiled knowingly as she followed the figure further up and her eyes landed on the curly mass of golden hair crowning his head. Her fingers itched to reach out and run themselves through the curls. Maker’s breath, she thought to herself, what’s gotten into me. Must be the tonic. She clicked her tongue gently inside her mouth again, this time tasting something a bit stronger. Definitely a tonic in there.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she studied the sleeping commander. How long had he been there, she wondered. His brow was furrowed but his breathing was regular. No nightmares, she concluded. She wondered how many he had since the night she spent by his side. Hopefully the potion she gave him had given him some reprieve from the terrors stalking his dreams.

As if wakened by her thoughts of him, Cullen stirred and his eyes flickered open. She realized too late it was likely due to the fact that her fingers had indeed found themselves intertwined in his locks. Not only that but she realized she was bare beneath the covers and quickly pulled her hand back and lay back down, taking cover under the furs, the heat from her embarrassment warming her recently exposed skin.

Cullen quickly moved his arm off and immediately rubbed the back of his beck. He propped himself up on one elbow to be able to look down at her. His eyes were soft and tender, though they didn’t hide the embarrassment he also felt.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, his voice still hoarse from sleep. He offered a shy smile as well.

Catlyn’s heart skipped a beat and she released her breath, realizing she had been holding it. “Hello,” she replied meekly in return, her nerves getting the better of her.

“Seems it’s my turn to keep watch this time,” he answered with a hint of mischief in his eyes. Catlyn blushed in response. He smiled, “It’s good to see some colour back in your face. You gave me- us- quite the scare,” he stumbled and caught himself, his turn now to look down and flush.

Her inner self did a back flip in response and she caught her breath in her mouth before asking, “Did everyone get out?”

Cullen nodded and looked back at her, his composure restored. He sat up slowly, wincing slightly from the stiffness of having spent the night on the hard ground beside her. “They did. There were minimal casualties once we got outside the Chantry. Chancellor Roderick’s route provided the escape we needed.” His voice dropped slightly, laced with respect, “Though it was you who truly saved us all.”

She flushed under his grateful gaze and shifted uncomfortably. “Corypheus was my target and he escaped with the dragon. Good thing this wasn’t an assignment otherwise I would be in big trouble,” she smirked.

Cullen didn’t break his gaze, though a troubled look crossed his face at the reference. “You didn’t have to stay behind. But you did. Thank you,” he replied simply, though Catlyn could feel the gratitude fill her heart to swelling.

“You’re welcome, Commander,” she managed to get out.

Cullen winced. “Please. It’s Cullen.”

“Cullen,” Catlyn smiled and was rewarded with one in return.

There was an awkward silence as the two lay beside each other, embarrassed by the moment having passed between them. It was a significant change from the hostility they were both accustomed to, though not unwelcome.

Cullen cleared his throat, “Are you in any pain?”

Catlyn winced slightly as she took mental stock of her physical state. Her ribs hurt, but when she wiggled her limbs nothing seemed out of place. “My sides are a bit sensitive,” she admitted. “Likely a result of falling down that old mine shaft.”

“Ahh,” Cullen replied, finally understanding how she managed to escape. “Well I suspect missing the scaffolding and leaping directly to the bottom might have something to do with that,” he grinned at her.

Catlyn laughed in return. “Better than being buried alive in snow I suppose.”

“With that I agree completely,” he replied, his smile spreading further. 

She shifted under the covers. “I’m a bit sore everywhere though,” she added, the stiffness in her muscles causing a dull ache every time she moved. “Damn Templars. No offence, Commander,” she added quickly, shooting him an apologetic look.

He chuckled. “None taken. I am no longer one of them, though it’s near impossible to forget the training. Not that I would want to,” he added, eyes lost in thought. “They are exceptional soldiers and fighters. The training becomes part of you after all that time.”

“You’ve fought a lot I take it?” Catlyn asked timidly, not wanting to drag up unwanted memories but too curious not to ask. She knew the memories were a part of what haunted him and if she were truly going to help him, she needed to understand them.

Cullen sighed, “More than I had hoped for as a boy leaving Honnleath to pursue a life of service with the Chantry.” His eyes were wary and sad, so Catlyn decided not to pursue it any further.

“Did it leave you much time for anything else?” she asked, trying a slightly different path.

Cullen tilted his head back and forth, considering her question. “The odd hobby, perhaps. But I was pretty dedicated to my duties. When I was in Kirkwall I was mostly focussed on keeping my mad knight-commander from bringing everything crashing down around us. Didn’t think of much else, truth told.”

“Seems like that might get lonely.” Where was she going with this, she wondered.

“I was perhaps too busy to notice,” he replied.

“No one special caught your eye?” she asked, leaving the question hanging before her senses could catch up to her and stop the words from falling out of her mouth. Truly, what was in that potion, she wanted to know, vowing to speak to the healers as soon as she could find her clothing.

Cullen looked back at her with a bemused expression on his face. “Not in Kirkwall,” he replied softly, barely loud enough for her to hear.

A shy smile spread across her face as she looked into his liquid honey eyes, a warm ball growing in the pit of her stomach. The smile he returned did nothing to dissolve the feeling and she had to look away before she thought she might explode into a sack of trembling nerves.

Just then, the tent flaps were thrown open and Dorian barged in, letting out an exultant “Ah ha!” as his eyes fell on the wakened Herald. Surprised, Catlyn felt Cullen drop her hand which had somehow made it into hers as they spoke.

Dorian bounded over and knelt down, planting a firm kiss on her lips before drawing back to look at her. “Darling, I’ve had enough of you playing hero. How could I ever hope to keep my shiny black hair immaculate with you giving it every reason to turn white.”

Catlyn smiled and rolled her eyes at him. She glanced over at Cullen, who was standing now, and caught him staring at Dorian with a cold, stern look in his eyes. Perhaps even… hurt?

“The next time I have to risk my life to save your ass, I will be sure to consider the impact it might have on your hair.”

Dorian laughed gaily, clasping her face in his hands and kissing her forehead. Cullen cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to his face which had regained its usual stoic look. “The advisors will be anxious to hear you are awake, Herald, as will the healers. I will give them the news. Excuse me, please,” he said as he left the tent, closing the flaps behind him and leaving her with an emptiness in her chest that she had never felt before.

Dorian watched her expression fall as the Commander left the tent. “Our fearless Commander spent the past hours at your side, never leaving. I’m not sure he even pissed,” he added, grinning mischievously at her.

Catlyn’s eyes shot over to Dorian’s. She knew Cullen had been watching her, but she thought it was out of a sense of duty and figured there must have been rotations. She didn’t even know for sure how long she had been out for. The only thing she remembered before waking up was seeing Cullen’s tall silhouette at the edge of the camp, his strong arms enveloping her as she fell to her knees in exhaustion.

“Well I’m not sure why he was so overly concerned,” she replied defensively. “Surely the others were as well. He was likely just doing his duty,” she stammered, mostly trying to convince herself of this truth.

Dorian snorted. “Oh come now, Catlyn, don’t kid yourself. The Herald of Andraste- the Chosen One- here to save us all, risks her life to face an evil darkspawn magister and his pet archdemon and forcing the rest of us to flee to safety. We were all terrified for you. But none of us stayed in vigil at your side the entire time.”

Catlyn felt surprisingly comforted by this revelation, but somehow she wasn’t prepared to admit that to anyone just yet, hereslf included. She pushed Dorian’s shoulder playfully, “Some friend you are. Where was your vigil?”

“Oh darling come now,” he sniffed. “I don’t do well prostrated on dirty floors. Besides, I think the Commander had every blanket and fur commissioned for your bed. The rest of us had to huddle together for warmth in front of the fires to prevent from turning into ice blocks,” he shuddered. “This is truly a miserable place. I hope you have an equally extraordinary plan to get us out of here.”

Catlyn chuckled. It dawned on her that she didn’t know where “here” was. “Where am I anyways?”

Dorian looked at her happily. “Why darling, you can’t tell? You’re in the Commander’s tent of course! He took you here when he rescued you from a particularly deep snowbank. Denied anyone access. I had to threaten to castrate some poor soldier stationed at the entrance to get in. Mother Giselle and Madam de Fer were briefly granted access to tend to your wounds before being equalled banished.”

Catlyn’s eyes widened in response. He took her to his tent… guarded her protectively… why?

It also dawned at her that she was in his bed. Naked.

Dorian chuckled as he watched the range of emotions flash across her face. “Here’s hoping the next time you find your way into the Commander’s bed, it’s under markedly better circumstances,” he grinned salaciously at her.

Catlyn blushed furiously. She couldn’t even leave if she wanted to, as she had no idea where her clothes were. “That’s not what I meant. I meant where are we all,” she stammered.

Dorian smiled sweetly at her, shaking his head at the denial of her own feelings. “Oh my dear, are you only just realizing this now? How quaint. I forget you’ve led a relatively sheltered life. Stable boys don’t count, love. And stop looking at me that way.” Catlyn glared at him furiously. “Funny that it had to take such a traumatic event for you to realize this. Now, whatever shall we do about it?”

Catlyn drew herself up as much as her modesty could offer. “We are not doing anything because I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dorian snickered. “Oh so proud. And stubborn. You’re almost as bad as he is. Alright, do it the hard way then,” he replied as he got up to leave. “On an unrelated note, I highly recommend you bathe. You look- and smell- like death.” He winked at her and left, missing the equally death-like glare she shot him in return.

Catlyn barely had time to contemplate what her friend said before the tent flaps opened again and Vivienne was inside, fussing over her current state of health and assessing the damage, with Mother Giselle close behind her. They brought her a warm change of clothes though she was disappointed to learn that everything she had on before, including her favourite cloak, had been either ruined in battle or in the trek from the mine shaft.

Catlyn endured a steady stream of visitors, including her advisors and closest companions. She did not, much to her disappointment, see the Commander again. Just as exhaustion was about to set in once more, she heard one last voice she had yet to encounter since her arrival. 

“Herald, if I may, I have some information you might find useful,” Solas offered gently.


	18. Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Behold- Skyhold.

“Andraste’s tits and ass,” Varric swore loudly as his foot sunk once again thigh-deep into the snow. The mountain pass had not been kind to the dwarf. The snow was deceptively deep in places and given his compact stature, he found it more challenging than most to extricate himself. Cassandra shot him a dirty look but Bull laughed and hauled him back out again.

“Must you use such colourful language?” Cassandra snipped, irritated by the dwarf’s continued use of the holy one’s name.

“Ah lay off him Seeker. You might find yourself having a thing or two to say to the Maker’s Bride if you found yourself nipple deep in snow every twenty paces,” Bull defended his friend. Cassandra scowled in response and quickened her pace, putting a few more metres between her and Varric.

“Honestly Snips, are you sure you know where we’re going? I don’t know how much longer I’ll last up here.” Varric was busily emptying a pile of snow from his boot. “I know I said I’d follow you anywhere, but this is getting a bit ridiculous.”

Catlyn gave her friend a sympathetic smile. Truth be told, she had no idea where they were going but she had a good feeling about what Solas had told her. At this point, what was one more leap of faith? So far this one hadn’t ended with her at the bottom of a mine shaft, but even that story had a happy ending.

“Have faith Varric, you’ll see. Soon we’ll just round a bend and-“

She was cut off by the shouts of a scout up ahead calling, “Your Worship! Come quickly!”

Catlyn shot Varric a cheeky sidelong glance. “You have got to be kidding me,” the dwarf muttered in reply. “Fade-touched my ass. She has a lucky nugskin shoved up her-“

“Varric!” Catlyn laughed as she cut him off. She made her way quickly to Cassandra who was standing alongside the scout, both of whom were standing atop a crest with their mouths open wide in amazement. As she crested the hill, she looked out between the snowy peaks towards the direction of their gaze. She gasped and her eyes flew open wide in wonder. Perched atop the mountainside was the most extraordinary fortress she had ever seen. It appeared to float above the clouds, impenetrable. It took Catlyn a few minutes to even discern how its long causeway could even be reached. She smiled in triumph. Solas had been right.

“Skyhold,” Solas whispered softly as he took his place beside her. Even the name filled her with awe. She had never heard of a tale of a lost fortress in the sky, but she didn’t care whether it belonged in a fairy tale or was sent to them from the Maker himself, she had never been so happy to see walls of stone and soaring buttresses before in her life.

“Is it safe?” she asked the elf.

He nodded slowly. “It is from a forgotten time, but had not forgotten its purposes. It is a place where the Inquisition can rest and rebuild, where is can soar to the same heights as the fortress itself and beyond.”

Catlyn smiled and took a few more steps down the mountainside, taking it all in. It almost seemed too much to wish for. They were but a few days from either Fereldan or Orlais, judging by the flora she had seen along the way and the rising and setting of the sun. This was only the second day of their trek from the campsite and they moved slowly given the caravans and livestock they were herding, not to mention the woman, children and infirm they had among their ranks. It would make an excellent place to settle themselves.

“Seems your faith was well-placed Herald,” Cullen said gently as he made his way down to her side. He smiled at her as she looked up at him. This was perhaps the first occasion they had to speak since they were alone in his tent. Aside from watching he and the other advisors bicker over what to do next, she never had the opportunity to speak to him alone. She wondered if it had anything to do with Dorian’s constant presence. She saw the way he looked at the mage. It wasn’t suspicion as she would have expected from one with so unfortunate a history with mages. Besides, he told her he had put that behind him. It was something else more primal, though she couldn’t put her finger on it.

She looked back at the fortress in the distance. “It won’t be easy getting up there, but then I suppose that works to our advantage as well.”

He nodded. “Its position is unassailable. There is no way of amassing any kind of force strong enough to overwhelm it undetected. I bet you could see all the way to Val Royeaux from its highest spires,” he gestured with his hand. “Our greatest challenge will be moving the caravans up without losing any of them along the way and having them take out everything behind them. Our people are weary and need to regroup before attempting to move them up.”

Catlyn agreed. They couldn’t risk any losses and even the troops were weary from the thick snow bogging them down. “We could make a camp down below and take only the essentials up. Once our people have setup camp, the scouts can range for good hunting ground and build up our stores again before attempting to move the rest of the supplies up.”

“I agree. That would be the wisest course of action,” he smiled at her and Catlyn was reminded of how often they agreed on strategy. In the beginning she feigned disagreement if only out of pride, but even Cassandra had called her out on it.

The other advisors made their way over to where the pair was standing, faces all aglow in excitement. Josephine clasped her hands together and gasped, “It’s just like in the fairy tales!”

Catlyn looked at her dreamy-eyed friend. “Which one, Josie? I don’t remember a tale about a fortress in the sky and I think I know all the fairy tales there are,” she added smirking.

Josephine shook her head. “Not specifically, no, but in Elandra’s adventures she comes across a great fortress with turrets and battlements where the Knight of Flaming Swords is held by the evil Magister Griggold. It looks just like I had pictures it in my mind.”

Catlyn looked back at Skyhold thoughtfully. “You know what Josie, I think you’re right.” She didn’t notice the look Leliana and Cassandra exchanged. They still had no further details on the mysterious letter the Herald had received and the woman’s acknowledgment of the story reminded them of the unsolved matter.

“What is the plan then, Herald?” the Seeker asked, pressing on to more urgent matters.

“We will setup camp in the valley below and regroup so that we can bring up the caravans once everyone has sufficiently recovered. We will take a small party up with us to investigate the stronghold and assess the situation. Regardless of what we find up there, I think we should all stick together for tonight at least. Better for morale.”

The others nodded in agreement and quickly discussed the details. Once settled, Cullen moved swiftly back to his captains and gave the orders, leaving the rest of them to clamber down the mountainside, charting the safest path into the valley below.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they had finished outlining the plans for their temporary camp and the Inquisition forces and their followers were set to work getting the camp established. It took Catlyn no time at all to rustle up some eager men to go ice fishing on the frozen river snaking through the valley, even promising the first choice of the roast they had planned that evening to whomever brought back the greatest catch. Her companions grinned at her ingenuity, knowing full well she had gained both respect and admiration from her followers all the while securing stockpiles of food. Scouts were sent off to find decent hunting ground and a group of hardier village women were sent with a few soldiers as guards to find some local produce in among the glacial melts. Though unlikely to find much, some resilient tubers and shrubs grew between the rocky crags, nourished by the reflecting sunlight off the snow and melting glacier water.

Catlyn walked with Dorian over to where the advisors stood huddled, deep in conversation. Despite it being late in the day, none of them wanted to delay going up to see the fortress until the morning.

“My my, don’t they look like they’re plotting something,” Dorian noted as the group quickly stopped talking as the pair approached them, each one looking somewhat guilty.

Catlyn eyed them suspiciously. “Everything alright?” she asked by way of greeting.

“Of course your Worship. We were merely discussing the best route to take,” Josephine replied quickly. Too quickly.

Catlyn peered over their shoulders. “Well, I’m going to go out on a limb here, but I’ll wager it’s by taking that stone path right there up ahead,” she pointed to a well-worn rocky path led up the mountainside directly to Skyhold. The Ambassador flushed crimson and Cullen looked away as Catlyn’s eyes shifted to him. Only Leliana appeared contrite and Cassandra merely grumbled something and motioned them ahead. What were they up to, she wondered.

The path was remarkably well cleared and in good condition. They were all relieved to see it wouldn’t pose a problem for the caravans. Before long they reached the edge of the long causeway. They paused, taking in its enormity. It held a vast keep, stretching easily several hundred metres wide as much as tall. Battlements ran all around the perimeter and solid wooden doors stood open, beckoning them in as if it had been expecting them.

“After you, your Worship,” Leliana gestured to her.

Catlyn smiled nervously and walked slowly towards the gate. Her stomach was doing pirouettes as she approached the main doors. The causeway was in exceptional shape for something that felt so ancient. Catlyn wasn’t sure what it was, but somehow she felt as if the fortress had a mind of its own and was welcoming her in, waiting to embrace her in the warmth and security it had to offer.

She felt immediately at home.

Once through the doors and into the foundation grounds, the party spread out slightly, Cassandra and Cullen inspecting what had to be the stables off to the right, Leliana and Josephine making notes about where to set up merchants the begin their all-important trade. If they were to establish themselves in this snowy ice field, they would need to secure reliable trade relationships to supply them.

Catlyn wandered over to the staircase, Dorian following close behind. “What do you think, Dorian?” she asked her friend. “So far so good?”

“Indeed, Most Holy,” he replied, his tone dripping with mockery. He knew she hated that title. “You have secured us our own pile of frozen rubble in the middle of nowhere.”

Catlyn laughed and pushed her friend playfully. “Oh come now, Dorian, it’s better than that. At least not all the walls have been reduced to rubble. And look!” she said pointing up to the ivy-covered walls. “At least some things are capable of growing here.”

As they ascended the next level, they walked out into another large courtyard. A three-storey outbuilding stood to their left, abutting the battlements. They could see various other similar structures further in and the archway they had passed through was in fact a grand staircase leading up to the central keep. Apart from some obvious cave-ins atop the battlements that were visible from their side and a general state of disrepair, the structure appeared sound. Catlyn’s heart leapt a little in joy.

“Talk about your fixer-upper,” Dorian muttered under his breath before quickly adding more loudly, “Still, it could be far worse. We could have stumbled across an old Deep Roads opening and you might have had the unforgiveable inspiration to camp out underground.” Dorian shuddered, “I hate caves.”

Catlyn stared at him, exasperated. “Honestly Lord Pavus,” she began, emphasizing “lord”, knowing full well he knew her opinion on nobility, “if it does not meet your expectations you are free to remain in the tents with the rest of the Inquisition soldiers.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he quipped. “You know how I feel about sleeping on the ground. I am nothing if not civilized and civilized people do not spend their lives camped out like gypsies,” he sniffed.

Catlyn laughed and pulled him close to her side, snaking her arm around his waist. He wrapped his own around her shoulders. “We’ll just have to find you some cute stable boy to distract you from the rubble,” she teased. 

Dorian snorted. “Maker no, not a stable boy, they stink of horse shit and damp hay. Give me a good steward any day. At least they’re more likely to smell of fresh bread and ale.” Catlyn laughed harder and gave him a squeeze.

“Sorry to disturb you, your Worship,” Cullen cleared his throat, causing the pair to drop their arms and turn to face him. Catlyn could see that familiar look of hurt in his eyes, barely masked behind the stone wall he put up around him. “I think we have enough information for now. Although the fortifications seem to be in relatively good shape, I would caution against exploring any further until we can bring an engineer up with us in the morning. It’s getting late and it’s best we don’t get caught in the dark on our way down.”

“Of course, Commander,” Catlyn replied, though she was secretly disappointed that her discoveries had come to an end. She loved exploring old buildings, trying to get them to reveal their secrets. When she and Gaspar traveled for jobs, she was always begging him to stop when they came across ruins so she could have a look around. He always obliged, never being able to refuse her anything. The biggest castle she had ever explored was in Fereldan. It had been abandoned following the Blight and even then it paled in comparison to Skyhold.

The three turned back and descended into the lower courtyard, rejoining the three women they had left behind. They were busily discussing plans for the fortification and repairs to undertake. Josephine seemed the most animated, gushing about how impressive it all was and what it would do for the Inquisition’s reputation once they had it established.

By the time they had descended to camp, dusk had fallen. Their journey began to catch up to Catlyn, who was still run down following the events at Haven. She took her meal with Varric, Bull and Dorian, smiling as she sat back and listened to the friendly banter passing between them. Soon she was yawning and excused herself as she retired to her tent. As she reached her lodging for the night, she glanced up and met the Commander’s eyes that she discovered were watching her from across the camp. She smiled shyly and he did so in return, nodding his head in goodnight. She broke their gaze and disappeared into her tent, her heart thumping a bit wildly. His gaze was so intense it was if she could feel his concern for her pouring into her like an elixir, tingling all the way to her toes. As she collapsed into her bedroll, it took her seconds before falling asleep. That night she dreamt of a castle in the sky and an auburn-haired warrior princess galloping on her steed towards it in search of a honey-eyed prince she was determined to set free.


	19. Guard Rotations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor is named. Cullen explains the importance of guard rotations. And makes a promise.

They knew she would protest, but he didn’t expect to see her look both honoured and relieved as they announced their desire to appoint her Inquisitor.

As she held out the sword above the cheering crowd, Cullen distinctly saw a look of joy on her face that only enhanced the vivacity she already exuded. It was as if she were thankful to be a part of their journey, despite having every reason not to be. An ancient Tevinter magister turned darkspawn wanted her dead and thousands of lives now depended on her every decision, her judgment. He and the other advisors had sought far and wide for someone exactly like her to lead the Inquisition and no one seemed up for the task. Yet here she was, an Antivan assassin, being recognized for what she had proven herself to be: a formidable, honourable woman who inspired hope and action wherever she went. And here she was looking pleased, as if she had been chosen first for a team. Solemn, but pleased. What an enigma, he thought.

He followed the Herald, Seeker and Spymaster as they headed into the keep, the Ambassador following close behind him. As he reached the great hall of the building, he joined the three women who stood in a circle laughing and speaking quietly amongst themselves. Evidently they were pleased at the reaction they received.

“Commander, Ambassador, there you are,” Leliana greeted them kindly. “We were just discussing our next steps.”

He smiled and nodded. “We can start moving up some caravans as early as this afternoon and I would suggest bringing the weak and infirm into Skyhold first. The others can remain in camp until our engineer has the chance to better assess the various outbuildings. At seems the main structure is solid enough, but parts of the battlements are in rough shape. I would rather play it safe and keep only we must here. We can setup our own camp by the stables until the workers clear the debris inside the keep’s chambers.”

Leliana nodded and turned to the Inquisitor. “Well, shall we continue our tour? It is safe enough to pass through and we would like you to choose your quarters first.”

Catlyn rolled her eyes at the woman. “Oh come on, Leliana, you can’t fool me. You may have made me your leader, but I know full well who makes the decisions around here. I’ve already heard you whispering that I’m to have the wing above the grand hall,” she pursed her lips. “As I have already said, I don’t need anything that grand, but I suppose my protests are futile.”

Leliana’s eyes twinkled as she smiled in response. “Inquisitor, I don’t have the faintest notion what you mean.”

“That’s the worst I’ve ever seen you lie, Leliana. Even Josie telling me she valued my opinion on drapery was more believable than that. I couldn’t tell the difference between an Orlesian and Fereldan style of window if my life depended on it,” she quipped, her expression dry.

Cullen had to stifle a laugh. He couldn’t picture Catlyn giving even the remotest care about decorative style.

“Humour us then, Inquisitor,” Leliana requested and guided the woman deeper into the hall, Josephine following close at their side. Cassandra stayed back.

Cullen turned to face her. “Not interested in swapping tapestry trends, Seeker?”

Cassandra snorted in response. “Decorating is not my area of expertise, Commander. Nor is it of any interest to me. In that respect, the Inquisitor and I are very similar.” She turned to walk back outside and motioned for the Commander to follow. “How go the restoration plans?”

Cullen fell into step beside her. “Very well. We were fortunate to have recruited an engineer to us before Haven fell. He has completed a summary assessment of most of the main areas of Skyhold and is drawing up work plans and requisitions. I have my captains organizing guard rotations as we speak. Once we get the caravans moving, we can work on setting up the armoury.”

“Very good, Commander,” Cassandra replied, a satisfied look on her otherwise stern face. “She paused and hesitated slightly before continuing. “It was noted following the Inquisitor’s miraculous appearance at our camp that you reacted rather more forcefully than would have been expected given the delicate nature of your relationship with her. Has something changed that you wish to inform me of?” she asked him pointedly.

Cullen stiffened in defense. He hadn’t really considered how his actions might appear to others, being so overcome with relief at the time. He was generally a very reserved person and did not engage in public displays of emotions, apart from getting excited over the performance of the soldiers during practice sessions. The fact that the Seeker felt so moved as to mention it unsettled him.

“The events at Haven shocked us all, Seeker. You know as well as I do that without the Inquisitor’s mark, we are all doomed. I was overcome with relief and my focus went immediately to securing her, as is my duty as Commander. I don’t feel it is necessary to justify my actions any further.” He hoped his explanation sounded as convincing as he made it sound in his head.

Luckily for him, Cassandra seemed reassured by his words. “Of course, Commander. It was a very traumatic experience for us all. Given your condition, it is possible that your emotions were enhanced. If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to the mages regarding their needs at Skyhold.” With that, she left him standing at the bottom of the keep’s staircase as she went off in search of the Grand Enchanter.

Cullen exhaled deeply. He wasn’t sure what to make of his emotions yet himself. He found himself searching for opportunities to speak to Catlyn again, but she seemed to eternally be in the presence of the Tevinter. His stomach roiled in envy and disappointment. Clearly they were close and the memory of him kissing her after she woke- in his own bedroll, no less- had every envy demon breaking down his inner walls, it was a wonder he even managed any sleep at all. Still, he shouldn’t be surprised, he thought to himself. She knew of his hidden weakness. How could she ever think of him as an equal knowing what she did of his secrets?

Hurt gnawed away at him as he made his way down to his makeshift office outside the main gates, looking for a flurry of reports to distract him from the pain picking away at his heart.

\---  
“All guard rotations are established, Ser.”

“Good. See to it that those who remain here overnight have suitable accommodations in the barracks by the future armoury. Go only where it has been marked safe.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Commander! Captain Rylen wishes to know how many caravans should be attempted up the mountain.”

Cullen wiped his face with his hand, trying to hide his irritation. “I sent word over an hour ago that all three of the armoury caravans should be brought up. At this rate, they may only manage one. I want them moving.” The soldier stood staring at him blankly, unsure of whether to apologize or not. “Now!” Cullen barked and the soldier went scampering off like he was being chased by a rabid mabari. Cullen grunted, annoyed with himself for being so short. He wasn’t the sodier he had initially given the message to. His head had begun throbbing shortly after the Seeker had left him, though he couldn’t tell if it were just stress or the withdrawal clawing its way back. As he leaned over the table, reviewing the reports, a familiar voice broke his train of thoughts.

“Do you ever sleep?” the Inquisitor leaned against the table beside him, her smile playful as she looked up at him.

He struggled to form a semblance of a smile. “If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw- and I wouldn’t want to.” His voice hardened at the thought of the demon attacking them again. “We must be ready. Work on Skyhold is underway, guard rotations established. We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor,” he gave her a confident look.

She laughed gently in return. “Ah yes. Guard rotations. Seems that is what everything is talking about. Not, ‘What’s for dinner?’, or, ‘You actually sleeping in a bed tonight?’ Just, ‘Let’s get that guard rotation up and running,’ as if something could sneak up on us here,” she gestured to the expanse of mountains and sheer rock side surrounding them. 

Cullen gave her a sheepish grin. “Old Templar training. Secure the perimeter, always the first thing to do. Gives people a sense of purposes and security. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

Catlyn smiled warmly in return. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing, Cullen. I know very little of battles and training. I defer to the expert in this regard,” she gave him a little flourished bow, her eyes mocking him ever so gently. “If it helps to keep them occupied and with a sense of purpose, all the better.”

“Morale was low, but has improved greatly since you accepted the role of Inquisitor.” It was his turn to return the humour, knowing full well her distaste for grand titles.

She cast her eyes downwards bashfully. “I hope I live up to everyone’s expectations,” she mumbled.

He took her hand gently in his, causing her to lift her gaze to his. “We needed a leader. You have proven yourself. You needn’t worry of achieving greatness in their eyes. Everything you’ve done so far appears effortless.”

The look she returned him was of pure gratitude, causing Cullen’s heart to leap into his throat. Maker, how that smile literally took his breath away.

“Our escape from Haven… It was close,” she started, her voice low. “I am relieved that you- that so many made it out,” she stumbled over her words, her eyes growing wide and a slight pink blush creeping along her cheeks.

“As am I,” he replied tenderly. They stood in silence for a moment. Catlyn slowly moved to go, but he squeezed her hand, seizing the moment. “You stayed behind. You could have-“ his voice trailed off, heavy with the thought of having almost lost her. “I will not allow the events of Haven to happen again. You have my word.”

His last sentence seemed to have a desirable effect on her, as he could see her breath catch slightly in her throat and she swallowed hard. Her hand felt so soft and warm within his and he fought back the urge to brush it against his lips.

Just as she seemed to open her mouth in response, an unwelcome intruder descended upon them. “Inquisitor! There you are. I may have been premature in my dislike of this place. I came across a fantastic library, well-stocked and- oh, did I interrupt something?” Dorian asked, seeing the two quickly break free of their hold.

“Commander Culler was just instructing me in the very involved theory of guard rotation,” Catlyn replied, recovering herself quickly and casting Cullen a knowing smirk.

“Fascinating, I’m sure,” Dorian replied, one eyebrow raised. Cullen threw him a withering glare and the mage quickly continued on. “I believe I may even have found a copy of that tome we were discussing the other day on ancient elven artifacts. I believe Solas will also find it of great interest. Care to join me?”

“Of course!” Catlyn could barely contain her glee. “What luck! There can only be a handful of copies left. You’ll excuse me please, Commander?” she shot him an apologetic smile and turned to leave with the Tevinter. Cullen nodded and returned to his reports.

“Cullen?”

He looked up at the Inquisitor who had stopped a couple of paces away while the mage continued up the steps to the upper courtyard. “Didn’t you know that cats have nine lives?” She grinned at him and winked, leaving him smiling yet speechless as she sauntered up the stairs to catch up with her companion.

Nine lives, he mused. If I could share just one with her, I would be a happy man.


	20. Hypocrisy at its Finest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric points out Catlyn's hypocrisy. Cullen sends her on a hunt for Samson.

Catlyn stood across from the Seeker who was bent over leaning on the railing and eyed her sympathetically. “Have you looked at our Inquisition, Cassandra? An Antivan Crow is the supposed Herald of Andraste and is advised by an ex-bard and ex-Templar that is currently suffering from lyrium addiction withdrawal, and is surrounded by companions with more skeletons in their closets than what I saw in the waters of the Fallow Mire. We’re all fools here.”

Cassandra barked out a laugh. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“More at home, maybe,” she smiled lopsidedly in return.

Cassandra bowed her head and inhaled deeply. When she looked back up, her eyes were intense yet sincere. “I want you to know, I have no regrets. Maybe if we’d found Hawke or the Hero of Fereldan the Maker wouldn’t have needed to send you.” She sighed, “But he did. You’re… not what I pictured,” she grinned, straightening up, “but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I know less than nothing.”

The two women stood smiling at each other. Catlyn knew that despite her tough demeanour, her friend was really quite hard on herself. She had been among the first to give her a chance and Catlyn would never forget that. Helping her through these periods of self-doubt was the least she could do in return.

“Although I stood up for Varric, I’m not pleased with what he’s done. I’ll go talk to him. I’m sure he had his reasons, but I want it to be clear which side he should be on. I have no doubt we’ll run into any trouble. Despite his ways, I trust him.” She bid the Seeker farewell and headed off to find her little quibbler.

It didn’t take her long to come across the dwarf who had seemed to stake his claim by the foyer near the main entrance of the keep. He had built a makeshift desk out of old planks, much as the others had done. When she found him, he was gently fiddling with Bianca. He didn’t look up when she approached him, but she could tell he knew it was her.

“Cassandra’s calmed down. I think you can take your hand off Bianca,” she grinned at him.

He shook his head solemnly. “Define, ‘calmed down’ for me in terms of who or what she’s punching right now.”

“Nothing, at present, though I suspect if Dorian crossed her path he might be in for a surprise.”

Varric laughed drily. He looked up at her earnestly. “I wasn’t trying to keep secrets. I told the Inquisition everything that seemed important at the time.” He sighed, “I know I need to do better. I’m sorry. But Hawke is a friend and forgive me if I wasn’t clear what her intentions with her were. She wasn’t exactly popular in every circle across Thedas.”

“You know how I feel about lies, Varric. I can’t abide by them. When Cassandra asked you if you knew where Hawke was and you said you didn’t, I find it hard to reconcile with what we know now,” Catlyn chided him.

“She asked me if I knew where she was- and truthfully, I didn’t. That didn’t mean I didn’t know how to get in touch with her, but she didn’t ask me that. It wasn’t a lie, perhaps just not the whole story,” he replied defensively. His brow creased and he turned the tables on her. “You’re no stranger to partial stories either, Snips. Remind me again, what’s your family name?

Catlyn shifted uncomfortably and rolled her eyes at him, trying to deflect his attack. “We all know that. It’s Trevelyan.”

“Nug’s ass it is. You would sooner face Corypheus alone than use that as your name. No, we don’t know what it is. It’s always just been Catlyn the Crow. Think we wouldn’t notice?” he accused her. Catlyn returned his glare coolly as he carried on. “You’re no stranger to half-truths and protecting people, Cat. We’ve never pried because we respect you enough to let it be, but don’t pretend we’re so naïve. So don’t pretend to sit on your high horse and accuse me of being a liar for doing the same.”

Varric’s words slapped her as she gathered her will in response. However, she stopped, realizing the truth in what he said. She never equated withholding information as being a lie and wouldn’t be a hypocrite by declaring it the case for someone else.

“You’re right Varric,” she relented. “I’m sorry. That was unjust. Please forgive me.”

Varric stared at her in surprise for a moment before shaking his head and throwing his hands up in surrender. “Ah don’t worry about it Snips. The Seeker’s right, I should have been more forthcoming. It won’t happen again.”

Catlyn smiled and nodded. “Right. Well that’s settled. I’d better let you get going. Commander Cullen wished to speak to me about a lead he found on Samson. If he can get us a location, I want to head out within the next day.” She looked around the keep at all the bustling workers trying to get repairs underway. “Though I’m excited to be here, if I get cornered by Josie or Viv one more time to discuss carpet choices, I’m going to get Dorian to turn them into fennecs.”

“Can he even do that?” he laughed before his eyes took on a more mischievous look. “Going to meet Curly hey? Was this official Inquisition business or just a pretext?”

Catlyn eyed him warily. “Why do you ask, Varric?”

“Oh no reason,” he replied vaguely. “Just can’t help but notice that you both seem to find any excuse to consult each other, that’s all.”

Catlyn stood a bit taller and lifted her chin. “He is one of my advisors. I need him to, well, advise me. On things. Isn’t that normal?” she replied brusquely. 

“Alright alright, don’t get your shackles raised Cat,” he answered. “Just couldn’t help but notice a marked improvement in your relationship since shortly before Corypheus attacked Haven. I guess a common enemy can bring people together,” he winked at her and returned his attention to Bianca.

Catlyn frowned as she made her way through the solar towards the battlements, nodding at Solas along the way. She knew she would find Cullen working out of the tower he hoped to call home once the workers finished clearing the debris. Sure enough, the door was open as she approached the tower and could see Cullen standing in the middle of the room over an old dusty desk as he spoke to one of his soldiers. He finished giving his instructions and dismissed the man, turning towards Catlyn as she approached, flashing her with a heart-melting smile.

“Good day, Inquisitor,” he greeted her warmly. “I hear you’re been busy putting out fires already?”

Catlyn smiled in return, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, those two bicker like an old married couple.”

Cullen laughed, “That they do. If their hatred for one another was any indication as to their true feeling, I’d say they were destined to live happily ever after.”

Catlyn swallowed deeply. “It’s a shame, really, to waste all that energy fighting one another. They really do have a lot in common. Do you know that Varric is a closet Andrastian? They would be a formidable duo if they laid their weapons down. Life’s too short to lose a friend or more over pride.” As soon as she spoke the words she realized indeed how hypocritical she sounded. She flushed brightly in embarrassment and noticed Cullen looking at her sheepishly himself, a slow blush growing on his face as well.

“I couldn’t agree more, “he replied softly.

Catlyn’s heart pounded so hard in her chest she thought for certain he could hear it. “So, um, Cullen, you had some information for me?” she faltered, clearing her throat and trying hard to appear composed.

“Yes of course,” he answered, coughing himself. “I have some information I thought I should share with you regarding Samson.” He gestured for her to follow him out to the battlements.

They walked along for a few metres and then stopped as Cullen leaned against the stone railing, his forearms crossed as he looked out over the valley below. “I know Samson,” he started, his voice soft. “He was a good man once. A good Templar. He fell victim to Meredith’s wrath. He was caught carrying notes between a mage and his lover. Meredith dismissed him and he became a beggar.” Cullen’s eyes looked sad as he recounted what he knew of the man. “Somehow he got caught up in the conspiracy to oust Meredith. At one point following her defeat, Hawke was the one who asked me to give him a second chance. I accepted.” He stood up and looked at Catlyn who had been watching him intently. “When I left, he was still in Kirkwall. I knew he had a serious lyrium addiction, stronger than the average Templar for whatever reason. Yet still I struggle to think of what could have driven him to follow the likes of Corypheus. I wonder, if I hadn’t left, perhaps I could have done something,” his voice trailed off.

Catlyn reached out and placed a hand on his arm. “This wasn’t anything anyone could have foreseen. You can’t blame yourself.”

Cullen smiled weakly in return and brought his hand up gently to place it under her forearm. “I know. Still, it’s hard to fight off the doubts.”

“Someone wise once told me that you need to forgive your past in order to move on and not let it define you,” she smiled tentatively, using the words he had given her following her trip to the Free Marches. "You made decisions, took actions, and you can’t spend your life rethinking them all. Regret is a terrible waste.” She wanted him to let go of his demons and didn’t want him to find any new ones. They would only make the nightmares worse, she knew.

He smiled sadly at her and cast his eyes downwards. “Thank you,” he replied, squeezing her arm gently. The pressure sent a ripple low in her stomach, catching her off-guard. For the love of Andraste, why did he have this effect on her? She was worse than an adolescent.

“Ser! The report you wanted is ready,” a soldier came bounding up to him, startling the pair, causing them to break their touch. He handed the report to Cullen who nodded at him in dismissal. Catlyn watched as his eyes scanned the report.

“Ah yes, this is what I wanted to give you,” he said after scanning the document, all traces of softness gone from the moment before and his commander mask back in place. “We’ve received a lead worth following in the Emerald Graves regarding the red lyrium supply that Samson and his Templars have been using. It’s the only one we have to follow at this time. It would be worth investigating further.”

She took the report he handed her and skimmed it quickly. She nodded. She was excited to have an excuse to leave, though she felt surprise reluctance to leave the Commander.

“Did you… want to come along?” she asked shyly. “Only if you have time, of course. And interest. Maybe it would help with closure or something,” she rambled on, embarrassed at her offer.

He smiled at her. “As much as I would enjoy accompanying you, my work is here. There is much to be done to oversee the rebuilding of Skyhold and coordinate our various troops scattered throughout Thedas.”

“Of course,” Catlyn replied quickly, chastising herself for having even asked. He had better things to do than parade around the countryside keeping her company. “I’ll leave you to it then, Commander.” She turned to leave but he reached for her hand and boldly held her back.

“Catlyn please,” he started as if he were going to say something but thought against it. He inhaled deeply and sighed, releasing her hand. “Please be careful out there. I know you won’t be alone and your companions will do their best to protect you, but,” his voice trailed off. “Just don’t go using up all nine lives so quickly,” he finally added with a smirk.

She grinned at him and nodded, then turned to head back down the battlements to the main courtyard in search of Iron Bull and the rest of his team to prepare them for departure.


	21. Pennies Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian sets the record straight with Cullen.

_Commander- ___

_We intercepted some correspondence you might find useful. I am enclosing it for your review. ___

_We encountered more rifts than we had anticipated and they are taking longer to clear out. We have established several camps and supply lines though, which should keep us well-stocked. ___

_Have you ever seen a giant, Commander? Up close? Their breath stinks and they can fling a boulder as if it were a pebble with surprising accuracy. They also make a thunderous sound when they hit the ground. ___

_-C- ___

His face reddened and he spluttered as he spoke. “Giants! She’s off fighting giants?!”

Josephine looked equally horrified. Leliana had to suppress a laugh. The Inquisitor had been gone three weeks and this was only the second letter they had received. Work had progressed well at Skyhold and the three advisors were gathered in their new War Room sharing daily reports.

“I’m sure this is Bull’s doing,” Cullen grumbled. “The man can’t stand passing up some great trophy. We should have been more insistent on helping to choose her travel party instead of leaving it up to her to decide.”

“Really, Commander, do you think this is only Bull’s doing?” Leliana scolded him gently. “You know she would have never passed that up. Just be thankful she hasn’t come across that dragon my scouts have reported seeing.”

“Dragon! Maker’s breath,” he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. He knew the Spymaster was right, but it didn’t do much to alleviate his concerns. He felt completely useless from his position at Skyhold and was starting to regret his decision not to accompany the Inquisitor on this journey.

“I’m sure the Inquisitor has better sense than to attempt to slay a dragon unprepared,” Josephine said confidently. She cast a sidelong glance at Leliana who returned the look. The Commander had become increasingly bear-like in the weeks since the Inquisitor’s departure. They had all felt some apprehension, especially since they had no leads on Corypheus’s whereabouts, but the Commander seemed to be struggling most of all.

“What’s the word in Orlais, Commander?” Leliana inquired, trying to change subjects. “Any change in the civil war?”

Cullen snorted and shook his head. “Gaspard continues to amass his forces as subtly as one can and Empress Celene seems distracted by some arcane advisor of hers. I’m not sure what to make of it really. There is word that she is planning to hold peace talks but who knows whether that is her intention or just a ruse.”

“I will try and reach my contacts at court,” Josephine offered. “If there are to be talks, we should ensure that the Inquisition be a part of them. Who rules in Orlais is of paramount importance to us all.”

“I’ll have my people look into it as well,” Leliana added.

Cullen grunted. The great Orlesian Game was of little personal interest to him. He hadn’t the time nor patience for it. Celene wove too many webs of pretense and schemes for his liking. His preference lay with Duke Gaspard. At least with his military training and powers, he had a better chance of keeping rebels in check without the use of plots, schemes and blackmail, though he no doubt was as skilled in them as Celene.

He suddenly needed some air. “If you’ll excuse me, my ladies, I have a stack of correspondence waiting for me.” He inclined his head politely and quietly left the room, striding purposefully towards his tower.

The respite he sought was denied him when he reached his office only to find Dorian lounging lazily on his desk. A storm cloud rolled over his face as the mage turned to look at him. While he was secretly relieved that the Inquisitor hadn’t taken him on this journey, opting instead to take Solas in the off-chance they encountered any elven ruins, his lingering presence at Skyhold kept him on edge.

“Ah Commander, good to see you. You’re looking well,” he simpered, swinging his legs down and standing up. “I hope we might have a word.”

Cullen grunted and walked passed him and around his desk, dropping a stack of reports beside an even larger, untouched one. “I’m rather occupied at the moment, Lord Pavus,” he replied, gesturing to the stacks of paper. “Unless it is an emergency, might it not wait until tomorrow?”

“Well you see, Commander, while not precisely urgent, it is rather important. I would like to discuss my relationship with the Inquisitor with you.” He stood with his arms crossed, flashing him an insufferable grin. 

Cullen visibly bristled. “Whatever relationship you have with the Inquisitor is none of my concern.”

Dorian slowly made his way around the desk. “I beg to differ, Commander. I feel it is of particular concern to you, especially since I’m guessing it is the reason you are increasingly hostile towards me. I don’t believe I’ve done anything in particular to offend you, unless of course the mere presence of a Tevinter mage is too unbearble for you.” He came to stand in front of Cullen, looking him directly. I have it on good authority that you are capable of looking beyond a person’s station and title, albeit perhaps only after a little time.”

“Your prowess and knowledge have proven very useful,” Cullen replied through clenched teeth, ignoring the slight jab at his initial reaction to the Inquisitor’s position earlier on.

“Obviously. The Inquisition is better off with me among its ranks,” he sniffed. “However, I believe I have determined why you only pay lip service to my contribution while actively wishing for my dismissal. Do you know why that is, Commander?”

Cullen clenched his fists by his side. His patronizing tone set him on edge but for the respect he bore the Inquisitor, he fought back the urge to throw the man out his window. “No, my lord, pray tell. Why might that be?”

Dorian flashed him a bright smile. “You’re jealous of course! Naturally your first reaction upon seeing someone as dashing and handsome as I becoming close with the Inquisitor would be to think that we were in some kind of romantic arrangement. I can’t say I blame you- she is quite the beauty, our young Catlyn, with a shapely figure, firm behind, and soft, supple br-“

Cullen slammed his fists onto his desk and growled, “Enough! What do you want Dorian? To gloat? To rub it in? How she picked some strong, capable mage over some husk of a lyrium-addicted man who screams in the night at the terrors haunting him in his sleep? Satisfied now?”

Dorian looked at him sympathetically. “No, my dear Commander. I only had one question for you.” He reached over, cupped his face in his hands and gave him a deep, long, lingering kiss. He broke away and asked, “Did you enjoy that?”

Cullen spluttered and backed away quickly, stumbling over a stack of books and strewing them across the floor. “No!” he blurted out, staring at him wild-eyed and in shock.

Dorian shook his head disappointedly and sighed. “Such a shame, for I certainly did,” he looked at him salaciously. He watched Cullen as the dawn of realization broke over his face.

“Oh. Well, erm…” Cullen stammered in response. “You mean, you aren’t…?”

“Heavens no, Commander! My dear Catlyn is missing a rather key part that I find so very enjoyable. However, she is a dear friend to me, dare I say best friend, and I would appreciate it if you would grow some balls and do something about the situation. Oh, and stop plotting my demise, please.”

“And what situation might that be?” Cullen replied, recovering himself.

“I don’t believe it is well-known yet, given what a tumultuous start you two had, but it is painfully evident to those of us around you that you both harbour feelings for the other. Catlyn, Maker bless her, is hindered by pride and a general mistrust of love in general, in many thanks to her grandmother’s recently revealed conniving. You, on the other hand, appear tortured by your perceived lack of self-worth. You don’t believe she could ever believe you worthy of her.” Dorian finished his assessment of the situation and looked at Cullen straight in the eye. “I am limited in my ability to convince Catlyn that not every man alive will abandon his love as her father did to her mother. The harder you push a druffalo, the less likely they are to comply. She needs to come to terms with that herself. You, however,” he gestured to Cullen with a flourish of his arm, “I may have more success with. Starting by clearing the air between you and I. I can’t have you throwing daggers at me every time I spend time with my best friend.”

Cullen stood still, taking in the man’s words. Though his heart pounded with renewed vigour at the implications of the man’s kiss, he still had trouble convincing himself that the Inquisitor could ever care for a man as broken as he. “Though I appreciate your candor, Dorian, there are many reasons why pursuing a relationship with the Inquisitor would be inappropriate.”

“Oh? How so?” he replied, crossing his arms and looking at skeptically.

Cullen frowned at him. “To start, it would place me in a direct conflict of interest. My judgment would be biased by my feelings towards her.”

“And how many other advisors does she have, Commander?” Dorian countered.

Cullen shifted uncomfortably. “Several.”

“And is she required to seek out and follow only your advice?”

“Well no, not exactly,” Cullen faltered.

“I see. So there exist other checks and balances in place to control the risk it poses. Do continue then.”

Cullen glared at him, unappreciative of his tone. “There is the matter of time. She is often away from Skyhold and when she is not, we both have pressing duties that take precedence over everything else.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all work and no play makes for a dull Commander,” Dorian quipped, ticking off the arguments on his fingers, “not to mention sexually frustrated as well. Believe me, Commander, everyone would benefit if you took care of business, if you know what I mean.”

“You forget yourself, Lord Pavus,” Cullen snapped at him, no longer able to suppress his mounting frustration with the man. Who did he presume to be, coming here and lecturing him on how to better handle his own private matters?

“But you’re wrong, Commander,” he replied, pointing a finger at him and stepping forward, “it is not I who have forgotten who they are. Tell me truly, Commander, what makes you think you are undeserving of the Inquisitor’s affection?”

“Because who could ever love a broken man?” he blurted out in frustration, his voice raised in a shout. He looked quickly around to see if anyone had some in unnoticed. Mercifully they were alone in the room. “I have seen horrific things and done even more than are unforgiveable. Now I am selfishly on a path to salvation that has rendered me weak, all because I no longer wanted to be bound to the Order that led me to who I’ve become,” his voice dropped to a whisper as he squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the pain. When he opened them, there was a haunted look behind his honey gaze. “How could I ever be worthy of someone who shines brighter than the sun when every day I stumble down a path further into darkness?”

Dorian looked back at the man, his eyes filled with compassion. He clasped him on his shoulder. “You are a good man who has been dealt an unfortunate hand in life. But you are judged not by what you have lived through but by the choices you have made. You chose to stand up to your Knight-Commander for what was right. You chose to break the chains of a corrupted order despite the risk it poses on your life because you chose not to be bound by it any longer. You chose to join the Inquisition and fight for justice. Everyone has made mistakes, Commander. It’s those of us who learn from them that are worthy of respect. Catlyn may be young and naïve, and have terrible taste in design,” he added with a roll of his eyes, “but she can see through to the heart of a person. She knows what you want to be and she only wants to help. Not out of pity,” he added, seeing Cullen snort derisively in response, “but because she admires your strength and determination. She can too, incidentally. Help, that is. I don’t know where it comes from exactly, but she has an advanced knowledge of how to treat lyrium withdrawal, the likes of which I have never seen. And I’ve seen a lot when it comes to studies,” he added casually.

Cullen shifted his weight to the other foot. He wasn’t expecting to have opened up to the Tevinter this way and he wasn’t sure how he felt about being this exposed. “So what would you have me do then?” he asked.

“Woo her!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “You Fereldans aren’t so completely simple that you don’t know how to romance a woman. Just be yourself, it’s obviously worked this far. And for Andraste’s sake, please stop glaring at me like you want me skinned and sewn for your new mantle,” he shuddered. “I would prefer not to have to sleep with one eye open at night.”

Cullen laughed ruefully. He straightened himself before he said, “Thank you, Dorian. I’m not sure I was deserving of your kindness, certainly after the way I have behaved. I hope you will accept my apology. I promise to call off the assassin, so you can sleep peacefully,” he added with a lopsided grin.

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Enough with the sentimentality, Commander, I have a weak stomach for that. Besides, it’s mostly for Catlyn that I said anything at all. She is a singular woman and I would do anything for her.” With that, he turned to leave.

Just before he approached the door, Cullen called out, “I mean it though. If there is anything I can do to repay your kindness, I will.”

Dorian considered his offer for a moment. “Well, come to think of it, there is perhaps one thing, Commander. How are you at chess?”


	22. Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn is surprised to discover that Dorian and the Commander are actually getting along.

Catlyn’s eyes were crossing. Since the early morning she had been trying to catch up on correspondence that Josephine had no neatly arranged for her since returning from Crestwood, and by now it was mid-afternoon and she was seeing double. Andraste have mercy, she thought to herself. These people are relentless. Trade representatives, nobles positioning for influence, people petitioning for protection and support- the list was endless and they all wanted her opinion on matters she cared very little about. She had known she would be in for a tough ride and was up for the challenge, but even this was surpassing her wildest expectations. She almost longed for rift-closing.

Her stomach grumbled so loudly she was certain they would hear it in the main hall. She stretched herself back in her chair and let out a yawn. Just then there was a shy knock on her door. Catlyn smiled. She recognized that knock.

“Come in, Grace,” she called out to the young girl who had appointed herself the Inquisitor’s Favourite Handmaiden. In effect it was her mother who had been assigned as the Inquisitor’s servant but Grace had completely endeared herself with the Inquisitor that she didn’t mind the takeover. She had spoken to her mother about it and reassured her she was no nuisance. Though for more formal affairs, of which there was an increasing amount, her mother attended her, when it came to daily matters around Skyhold Catlyn was happy for the young girl’s presence. She was on the verge of adolescence and bounced back and forth between attempted reserve and maturity, and youthful exuberance and innocence. She was wilful and sharp, and reminded Catlyn of herself at the same age.

Grace came bounding up the stairs carrying a tray with steaming soup and a fresh loaf of bread. Catlyn was impressed that she didn't spill a thing. “You didn’t come down for lunch, Cat!” the little girl chastised her. “I had to fight off some scullery boys to save you any soup at all! Imagine, those pesky pigs wouldn’t have cared if the Inquisitor went hungry,” she scolded. “Boys! They just don’t know anything!”

Catlyn had to stifle a laugh. Grace seemed seriously offended at the thought of the Inquisitor missing a meal on account of hungry help. “Thank you for looking out for my best interests,” she managed, suppressing a grin. She pushed aside some papers and motioned for the girl to set the tray down in front of her. As she tucked into her soup, she broke off a piece of the loaf and offered it to the little girl, knowing the ends were her favourite piece. Grace smiled happily, thanking her for the bread, and perched herself on the edge of her desk, crossing her legs and taking a big bite.

“So I heard you slew a cave wyvern in Crestwood that was bigger than Skyhold’s keep,” Grace said in between chews. “Did it really have three heads?”

Catlyn laughed at the little girl’s wide-eyed stare. “Maker’s breath Gracie, who did you hear that from?”

The little girl tossed her hair disdainfully. “Llewyn Witherton heard it from a soldier in the barracks when he was cleaning their armour this morning. I knew he must have gotten it wrong because whoever heard of a cave wyvern with three heads!” she replied scornfully. She took another bite of her bread and hesitated before asking, “So, how big was it really?”

Catlyn swallowed her spoonful. “Not quite as large as a dragon, but it would have swallowed my mount up in one bite, that’s for sure,” she winked at her.

Grace’s eyes widened even further as a slow smile of awe spread over her face. She giggled, “Wait until Mary hears this, she’ll faint!”

Catlyn continued her meal as the little girl chattered away, updating her on all the latest gossip she picked up around the fortress. Stolen kisses between servants and soldiers, stories of Sera’s latest pranks and their victims- all manner of lighthearted trivia. It reminded Catlyn of the everyday lives they fought to protect.

“Oh yes, I almost forgot! It seems Commander Cullen and Lord Pavus have been spending quite a bit of time together in the gardens.”

Catlyn’s brow quirked. “Oh? Is that so?” This was interesting. Dorian hadn’t mentioned this to her before and she knew Cullen wasn’t a great admirer of the Tevinter. In fact, she had only seen him relatively hostile towards the mage, especially when he happened across the two of them together. “And do you know what they’re doing in the gardens?” she asked, trying not to sound too interested.

Grace nodded her head. “They play chess!”

“Chess?”

“Yes, chess. You know, the game with all the pieces on the board and the king and queen and-“

“I know what chess is, Gracie,” Catlyn interrupted quickly, gently smiling at her. “I didn’t realize the Commander had a hobby. It seems he’s forever holed up in his office when he’s not at the war table.” Catlyn’s brow furrowed slightly. It seemed they rarely had any occasion outside of work to talk. Not that they needed to really, but somehow she found her thoughts wandering over to the Commander, what sort of interests he might have, about his family, life before the Templars…

“All I know is that they’ve been playing since you left for the Emerald Graves. Almost daily, if the rumours are true, and I suspect they are because they came from Jessup Lothing who has a mad crush on Lord Pavus, who heard it from Minaeve and she can’t lie, right?”

Catlyn looked reflectively at the little girl. “Is that so,” she replied. “As always Grace, you are a wealth of knowledge and a breath of fresh air,” she smiled warmly at her. “I think I’m going to take a walk and clear my head. I’ll need a bath later this evening. Be a dear and let your mother know please. Care to braid my hair after?”

The girl’s face lit up like the sun. “Of course! Shall I try the latest Antivan style? I know you’re partial to those the most.”

“Whatever you’d like. My hair is yours.”

Grace beamed in reply. She picked up the empty dishes and scampered down the stairs and out of the Inquisitor’s quarters.

Catlyn considered her next move and decided to investigate the chess-playing herself. Curiosity was just too much for her to bear.

\---  
“Gloat all you like, I have this one,” Cullen confidently moved his piece across the board.

“Are you sassing me, Commander? I didn’t know you had it in you,” Dorian replied mockingly.

Catlyn had been watching the two for some time, amazed at the change between them. She had never seen Cullen willingly stick around for more than a few minutes in the mage’s presence and now here they were, playfully goading each other along. She would have stayed longer had a group of mages not happened across her and greeted her with a fuss, drawing their attention to her standing not far from where they played.

“Inquisitor!” Cullen startled, moving to stand before Catlyn waved her hand for him to stop as she approached the pair, her cover broken.

“Leaving are you?” Dorian teased. “Does this mean I win?”

“Are you two playing nice?” Catlyn eyes, her eyes twinkling.

Dorian turned and smirked. “I’m always nice,” he replied before turning back to the board. “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You’ll feel much better,” he added, making another move.

The grin on the Commander’s face was splitting. “Really? Because I just won, and I feel fine.” He sat back in his chair with a satisfied look on his face.

“Don’t get smug,” the mage grumbled, getting up from the table. “There will be no living with you.” He turned and placed a hand on Catlyn’s shoulder. “He’s all yours, Cat,” he said, winking.

Catlyn flushed slightly at her friend’s insinuation. She eyed the chees board curiously.

“I should return to my duties as well,” Cullen said, his voice trailing off slightly, “unless you would care for a game?”

“Prepare the board, Commander,” she replied with a grin. She took up Dorian’s seat and watched and he swiftly reset the board. She noticed that he almost always wore his gloves, even when taking a moment away from his duties. She wondered what his hands were like, whether they were rough and calloused like a warrior’s would be, what they might feel like on her…

“Inquisitor? Your move,” his voice broke her train of thought and she blushed slightly as she hurriedly made her first move. Truth was, she was quite horrible at chess and had been too impatient to sit and learn it with her mother. She was grateful at this moment that her mother had persevered and at least managed to teach her the basics.

“I didn’t know you had any hobbies, Commander,” she ventured as he quickly responded to her play. “I thought you said you hadn’t much time for extracurricular activities.”

It was Cullen’s turn to flush slightly. “As a child, I played this with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won- which was all the time,” he laughed fondly at the memory. “My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won…”

Catlyn was surprised. This was the first he had ever mentioned a family. “You have siblings?”

“Two sisters and a brother,” he replied, efficiently taking another of her pieces. “They moved to South Reach after the Blight, after our parents passed away. I do not write to them as often as I should,” he added with a look of disappointment and guilt. “My brother took up fishing with my father and continued on the Bannorn after the move. My sisters stayed close by, though one moved to Lothering recently with her new husband. My sister Mia, with whom I played, is the glue that keeps up all together. She is the reason I know anything about them at all.”

“Must be nice to have siblings. Someone to share your history with.” Catlyn had often wished for a younger sister, though she knew it could never be. The thought still made her a bit sad, though the bond she shared with her mother more than made up for the lack of siblings.

Cullen laughed. “It has its advantages and disadvantages. You have no siblings, I take it?”

Catlyn shook her head and quickly made another move, wanting to change the subject away from her. “Did you all get along well?”

“For the most part, as far as siblings go,” he smiled wryly at her. “My brother and I used to hide toads in the girls’ beds and our mother would chase us out with a broomstick when they would come screeching out of their rooms. It wasn’t much fun spending the night outside, but it was worth it to see the horrified expressions on their faces,” he grinned. “Mia and I were the closest. She taught me how to kiss a girl- not on her, just with words,” he added quickly in response to Catlyn’s horrified look. “I would threaten any boy that took a shine to her, even if they were several years my elder and twice my size,” he laughed. “I always thought it would be nice to have a family and give them the same childhood I had.” His face clouded somewhat and his brow furrowed as he stared down at the board.

“So what’s stopping you?” Catlyn asked timidly, holding her breath in anticipation of his response.

He remained silent for a moment before replying, “I considered it once, back in the Circle. I told you about Isidora,” he replied, weariness creeping into his voice. “Once the Circle fell and I was sent to Greenfell, I sort of put that out of my mind.” He moved a piece and took out another of Catlyn’s. She really wasn’t faring very well. She fought back a tinge of disappointment as silence fell over the table.

“But times change, as do people. With everything that has taken place since then, maybe not all hope is lost,” he added, a tender look in his eyes as his gaze met hers.

Catlyn’s heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear herself think. She swallowed hard and looked away quickly, making a careless move and setting herself up for eventual defeat. Still, Cullen responded slowly, drawing out the attack longer than necessary.

After a few more minutes of play, he broke the silence. “You know, this may be the longest we’ve gone without discussing the Inquisition- or related matters. To be honest, I appreciate the distraction,” he said, grinning lopsidedly.

“We should spend more time together,” she blurted out. Maker’s breath, she was completely and utterly useless, she chided herself.

“I would like that,” he replied quickly, much to her surprise.

“Me too,” she agreed, smiling.

He grinned and made another move, then looked up at her through his long lashes, his eyes liquid honey. “You already said that.”

Catlyn’s face burst into flames as she dropped her eyes in embarrassment. She prayed no one was around to witness her foolish attempt at flirting. She could flirt with just about anyone effortlessly, but when it came to the Commander, she blundered like an awkward teenager. She made her last possible move and he made his in return.

“I believe this one’s mine,” he declared, smiling.

“Your skill is remarkable,” she offered graciously, “though I really am shite at this game.”

His deep laughter brought a laugh to her lips as well. “You just need more practice, that’s all. Speaking of which, have you spoken to the trainers we found you? I believe you could benefit greatly from some of their expertise.”

Catlyn frowned. She had been meaning to select a skill but had been putting it off. She knew which one she thought she would excel at, but she was afraid of what Cullen might think of her for it.

“I’m not sure I can manage all those traps. I’m rather clumsy with my fingers. The tempest seems useful, especially if I can’t pry Dorian’s nose out of his books long enough to join us or Viv is caught up in some event planning.” She looked up at Cullen nervously. “But I think, given the training I already have, I might be better suited…”

“As an assassin?” he answered for her. She nodded her head timidly. He raised his eyebrow in return and sat back in his chair rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Why the hesitation? You usually make up your mind about things well in advance and don’t shy away from expressing yourself.” He leaned forward, “What’s stopping you now?”

Catlyn squirmed nervously in her seat. How could she reply without making it painfully obvious that she valued his opinion and was afraid he would revert back to some unfair prejudice against her and they would lose any progress they had made thus far?

“Is it because of how I acted before?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Catlyn’s eyes grew wide as she looked quickly up at him. His were filled with concern and regret. She immediately felt embarrassed that she had said anything at all.

“Catlyn I’m- I’m so sorry,” he said, clasping her hands in his. “This is your decision to make and yours alone. I should never have let my prejudice get in the way like that and I meant it when I said that I was sorry and promise not to let that ever interfere again.” He looked at her with pleading eyes. “You’re absolutely right. It would be the best choice for you to make. You’re already formidable on the battlefield and this would make you unstoppable. I’ll even help you if you’d like,” he added, hoping to ease her concern.

Relief flooded her and she grinned at him questioningly, “Help me? How would you do that? No offence, but Templar training isn’t exactly well-known for its stealth.”

“No, that’s true,” he laughed, “but you will likely be facing a lot of them in battle. You could hone your new skills on me, see how they could best serve to get through their defences.”

Catlyn’s face broke into a smile. “Alright, Commander, you’re on. Care to add a wager to the mix?”

He laughed and sat back in his chair, releasing her hands and rolling his eyes. “You spend too much time with Varric. What exactly did you have in mind?”

Catlyn thought for a moment. What did she have in mind, exactly? “For every hit I land, you buy me a drink.”

Cullen grinned in return. “That seems simple enough. And what if I land one?”

Catlyn folded her hands in her lap and looked at him innocently. “Do with me as you will, Commander.”

The look her gave her was smoldering. “I intend to, Inquisitor,” his voice a low growl in reply.

Catlyn’s breath caught and she bit her lip in response. Her pulse quickened and she could feel the heat of his gaze pour deep into her abdomen as they sat staring at each other.

“Inquisitor! Commander! Sister Leliana has requested your presence in the War Room,” a soldier announced, startling them both. They had been so fixated on each other that they never saw him approach.

“Of course, Eriksson, we’ll be there right away,” Cullen answered quickly, straightening himself up. “Shall we?” he stood, offering his hand to Catlyn as she made to stand. She raised an eyebrow at him and grinned at his chivalry, unaccustomed to such a manner. Still, she politely accepted and felt the same tingle again as she slid her small hand in his.

“After you,” he murmured, gently placing a hand on her lower back as he led her out of the gazebo. Catlyn had to suppress the urge to fall into him and feel his warmth press into her. Instead, she held her head high and walked as demurely as she could through the garden, the Commander close on her heels, fighting back the delighted grin that threatened to spread across her face.

\---

Catlyn patted down the fallen Templar and bent over to retrieve her dagger that had lodged into the mail when she had unleashed her twin daggers on him. She grunted as she yanked it out. “Blighted armour,” she muttered to herself, inspecting the damage to her favourite dirk. She would need Haggrit to fix that once back at Skyhold. The blacksmith will be less than pleased with me, she thought to herself. He had mended the weapon several times already and warned her that it would eventually wear out on her. He insisted he craft her a new one but she had grown accustomed to the feel and familiarity of this one so much that she was reluctant to let it go.

She sighed and walked over to her friends who had assembled nearby, tossing a ring to Cassandra as she approached. “Think you could use this, Cass?”

Cassandra snatched the ring out of the air, surprisingly deftly given the gauntlets she wore. She grunted and nodded. Catlyn seemed to have a talent for picking up the best drops and a keen eye for who could benefit most from which item.

“Well that was fun!” Dorian declared, a bright smile on his face. “I do so enjoy waking up in the morning with a little battle. No better way to get the adrenaline flowing, isn’t that right Seeker?” He flashed Cassandra a big smile and she snorted in response.

“I’m so glad our work is meeting your expectations, Lord Pavus,” she replied acidly. “Fighting corrupted Templars is not my idea of fun.”

“Oh come now, Lady Pentaghast,” he sniffed, brushing off some snow from his robes. “Life can’t always be so serious. It will put premature wrinkles on your face and then however will you find some noble willing to spout you poetry and fling roses at your feet?” he grinned widely at her.

Cassandra blushed at the mention of poetry and growled at him in frustration. Since learning of her weakness for romance and Varric’s novels in particular, her friends had been relentless in teasing the woman about it. Catlyn had to stifle a laugh and brought a hand to her face to feign a cough in an effort to hide it. She enjoyed poking fun at her friends as much as they did, but Cassandra was such an easy target she came to her defence more often than not.

“So what now?” she asked, trying to divert everyone’s attention. “I think it’s obvious that something is going on here, but I’m not sure I want to walk into a Red Templar stronghold blind.”

Cassandra turned away from Dorian who was still smiling at her innocently. “I think it would be wise to set up another few encampments so that Sister Leliana’s scouts have a better base to operate from.”

Catlyn nodded in response. “I’d also like to talk to Cullen about having that crossing repaired.”

“You mean you actually want to get closer to that dragon’s lair?” Varris stared at her incredulously. “Maker, you must really want to test the odds, Snips,” he said, shaking his head.

Catlyn smiled. “I believe I have a debt to pay with Bull following our last game of Wicked Grace. Can’t think of a better way than to gift wrap a dragon hunt for him.”

“You could have just taken your clothes off,” he shook his head. “I know Bull would jump at the chance to throw you down in a pile of hay somewhere. I think you’d have a better chance fending him off than chasing some fire-breathing dragon.” 

Catlyn chuckled as the party made their way through the snow-capped ridges in search of a good camp site. As they trudged through the snow, Catlyn’s thoughts wandered over to the last war council she had held before leaving for Emprise du Lion. Josephine had been tracking the moves of a certain Antivan lord. Catlyn knew of Lord Enzo of Antiva. He was an unscrupulous man interested only in filling his coffers with as much gold as he could, regardless of its source. He frequently called on the services of the Crows and even they were growing tired of him. Gaspar had refused any mission related to him, forcing the contracts to be pushed down to more lowly, expendable assassins. It seemed that Lord Enzo had been caught up in the red lyrium trade and the advisors felt it necessary to put an end to that rather quickly.

Recently, Josephine had received word from the Crows that they may share a mutual target and perhaps had common interests. Catlyn knew Ghita, the master who had reached out to the Inquisition, and knew she shared the same opinion of Lord Enzo as Gaspar had.

What had made Catlyn nervous were the fears she had been suppressing since waking up in the prison cell in Haven many months ago now. The fact she was still alive meant technically she was still dedicated to the Crows. By now, word of her survival must have spread back to Antiva. She was honestly surprised they had not been in contact sooner. No doubt they were positioning themselves as best as possible, trying to maximize her involvement with the Inquisition to their advantage.

It made her nervous. She knew what her oath meant. Until the death. Unless she sought and gained permission from a master to be released from their service, Catlyn would be a deserted and the punishment for that was her life. Any hope she had of release died with Gaspar at the Conclave.

Her choice was between living in constant fear of the Crows tracking her down and eliminating her, or abandoning the Inquisition and returning to Antiva. Since the latter wasn’t truly an option she lived in fear, hoping she would outrun them. The letter from Ghita had her concerned.

It obviously preoccupied her advisors as well, a certain commander in particular. Josephine and Leliana were both aware of her predicament but to the Commander, it appeared to be a most unwelcome shock. He had grilled them on all the implications and was not at all impressed with their responses. When it had come time for her to depart for Emprise du Lion, he nearly sent an entire squadron of forces for protection along with them. Leliana had a few choice words with him regarding the need for stealth heading into a Red Templar stronghold, as well as a reminder that it wasn’t just the Crows who might be tracking the Inquisitor down. They couldn’t chase ghosts and sending a contingent of soldiers along with her would only point out her exact whereabouts. He had finally relented, though oddly he had insisted that Dorian accompany her.

She found his concern curious, even a little charming. She assumed he was only concerned with the protection of the Inquisitor, but once again she sensed there might have been an element of Cullen afraid for Catlyn’s security as well. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, nor the warm feeling it spread deep within her.

She sighed and pushed the thoughts from her mind once more, determined not to let the fear consume her any further than it already had.


	23. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter arrives from the Crows that baffles the advisors- and the Inquisitor as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one. I prefer to switch chapters only when I change POV and Cullen has a lot to absorb in this one.

“Will you require anything else Ser?” the soldier asked, ready to leave.

“No, that will be all Benton. Thank you.” Cullen dismissed the soldier who left him alone with a fresh stack of reports. It seemed no matter the progress he made with getting through the paperwork, it was like fighting an uphill battle.

He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. His head throbbed again. He found that distractions helped keep the pain at bay, but as his main two were off fighting Red Templars in Emprise du Lion, it hadn’t taken long for it to settle back into his head. He silently cursed himself for having insisted on sending Dorian along with the Inquisitor. No one was as skilled at chess as the Tevinter was, though he would never admit that. But he knew Dorian would lay down his life in an instant to protect the Inquisitor and that mattered more to him than the pain relief did. He would endure. He had to.

There was a timid knock on his door. Cullen looked up and called out, “Come in.” The door opened and the young girl who often tended to the Inquisitor stepped in carrying a tray of food. She eyed the Commander a touch warily, unsure of what to expect from the solemn Commander of the Inquisition Forces. He detected a hint of bravery behind that timid front, however, and immediately saw what must attract the Inquisitor to her. He waved his hand indicating she should approach. She marched up to his desk, carefully depositing the tray on a small rectangle of surface not cluttered by papers.

“Catlyn- I mean, _the Inquisitor _\- told me that I was to keep an eye out for you and make sure you were eating,” she began by way of greeting. “You haven’t been over for a meal once in the past three days and Cook Donatien tells me you’ve only had a loaf of bread,” she accused. “So I’ve brought you dinner.”__

Cullen leaned forward in his seat, his mouth curled up in a grin and eyes twinkling with mirth. “My my little lady. I don’t think I’ve had such a scolding since before I left home as a young man and my sister accused me of pilfering the last of the sweetcakes my mother made.”

Grace raised her chin defiantly, though her eyes gave away her embarrassment. “The Inquisitor gave me specific instructions. I’m just doing as I was told.”

He smiled kindly at her. “Well you’re right. I have been remiss in my dining habits as of late and am very grateful that you took the time to bring this over. I will be sure to report back to the Inquisitor that you fulfilled your duties as instructed.”

A small, shy smile crept over her face, ending in a beam of light. She tried to regain her composure and demurely asked, “Please let me know if I can be or any further assistance, Commander.” With a slight curtsy, she turned to go.

“Grace, is it?” Cullen called out, stopping her in her tracks. She turned around slowly and nodded her head. Cullen was suddenly overcome with curiosity. “Grace, did the Inquisitor mention why she wanted you to check in on me?”

The little girl shook her head. “Not specifically, no,” she replied, “but I imagine it’s because she cares about you.”

Her nonchalant remark caught him off guard. “What do you mean?” he stammered.

Grace shrugged her shoulders. “She often asks me whether I’ve seen you out and about, if you looked well, whether you’ve eaten. She seems worried if you’ve not been out much or if I hear whispers among the soldiers that you’ve been more irritable as of late.” She furrowed her brow in concentration as she tried to recall her conversations with the Inquisitor. “She was particularly pleased to know that you and Lord Pavus had been playing chess together for some time now. She was very curious and asked me all kinds of questions. I assume it’s because she cared for you and wanted to make sure you were happy,” she finished simply.

Cullen stared at her, dumbstruck. After a moment, he asked, “Does she ask after others?”

Grace considered his question. “Sometimes. But none as often as you.” She suddenly became aware that perhaps she wasn’t meant to say anything at all. “I’m not in trouble am I Ser? Nor is she? It really seemed harmless, she didn’t ask anything personal, I don’t even know you! I just reported back what I saw and heard from others,” she rambled on, wringing her hands slightly with a look of apprehension growing across her innocent face.

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong,” he quickly replied. The girl visibly relaxed. “Thank you for sharing this with me. And for the food. My stomach is rumbling already.”

She smiled and curtsied once more, turning to leave and quietly closing the door behind her. Cullen stared at the space where she had stood, a bemused look on his face. The idea of the Inquisitor showing any concern for him at all touched him deeply. Maker knew his concern for her grew with each passing day and not only for her as Inquisitor. The thought that she perhaps felt something similar made him glow like a star.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud, urgent knock, followed by a messenger bursting into his office. He frowned at the intrusion. His soldiers knew to knock and wait, while Leliana’s messengers were not nearly as disciplined.

“Ser! Sister Leliana requests your presence immediately in the War Room.”

Cullen frowned in concern. “Did she say what for?” he asked, rising from his desk.

“News from Antiva, Ser. Seemed important. Ambassador Montilyet is already with her.”

Cullen nodded and quickly gathered his things. He looked longingly at the tray of food which would surely be cold by the time he returned. He was feeling famished now. But news from Antiva could only mean one thing: news from the Crows.

He hastily made his way across the battlements, through the rotunda, nodding at Solas as he walked by, and through the main hall. He averted the eyes of the insufferable nobles who had taken up residence there as he headed down the hallway past the Ambassador’s office. He opened and closed the War Room door with a resounding thud as he stepped into the room. The two advisors were standing close to one another, puzzled looks on their faces. Leliana held a piece of parchment in her hands, presumably the correspondence they had just received.

“My ladies, there was an urgent request?” Cullen started, polite yet to the point. He felt uneasy though he wasn’t sure why. Neither woman looked agitated, merely surprised and confused. He exhaled slowly, figuring that if something had happened to the Inquisitor they would be reacting very differently.

“We received word from our contact with the Crows that Lord Enzo has been dealt with,” Josephine replied. “They passed on evidence of his smuggling and some leads as to its source,” her voice trailed off.

Cullen looked at Josephine, then at the spymaster, then back again. Something was off. “This is what you hoped for, is it not? It also doesn’t seem like urgent news,” he continued, eyes narrowing.

Leliana walked over to him and passed him the parchment she was holding. “No, but this is. It arrived along with the report.”

Cullen took the letter from her and read its contents.

_My dearest Catlyn, ___

_If you are receiving this, it means I am dead. I sincerely hope you are still alive to read this yourself. ___

_Since we crossed paths that day in the alley, I have watched you grow into a remarkable, determined young woman. I kept you close to me and secured you a position among us to keep you safe. But you are not destined for this life and now that I am no longer there to watch over you, your place is no longer among the Crows. It never truly was, caro mio. ___

_By now you will have learned of your father’s fate. You might have already known. Believe me, I did not until after the deed was done. But the irony will be avenged. ___

_I have secured your discharge. It’s time you put aside your anger and lived the life you were meant to. One for which you will be proud. ___

_You will forever be in my heart. Do not lose sight of your own. ___

_Gaspar ___

Cullen read and re-read the letter. His mind raced and his heart felt light with relief. The thought of the Crows sending someone after her had kept him up at night many times over the past weeks, the demons using the fresh fodder to haunt him in his dreams. Now knowing she would be safe from that had him overcome with joy.

The questions that remained were about her former guildmaster’s intentions for her. If he never thought she should spend her life as a Crow, why did he recruit her in the first place? What did he mean ‘to keep her safe’? And what were the circumstances under which they met in that alley? Not only that, he obviously was not aware of the familial connection before that fateful night in Ostwick. Catlyn would surely want to know.

As he looked up from the letter, he realized the two women were both staring at him. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “It seems she is free after all,” he offered by way of response.

“Yes, this is very good news,” Josephine replied. “But do you know who Gaspar is?”

“Her guildmaster,” he immediately replied.

The two women exchanged looks. “How do you know that, Commander? I didn’t think you knew much at all regarding the inner circles of the Crows.” Josephine’s tone was suspicious, causing Cullen some discomfort. He forgot that he had not shared any of these details with the others.

“The Inquisitor mentioned him in passing once,” he waved his hand dismissively. “I just put two and two together.” Cullen tried desperately to sound casual, but his blush gave him away.

“What else do you know that you aren’t telling us, Commander?” Leliana asked pointedly.

Cullen bristled. He didn’t want to betray Catlyn’s trust and didn’t see how those details mattered now. “We all know she was a Crow, Sister. Casual mention of her guildmaster’s name is hardly a revelation. What difference does it make?” he countered, trying to regain position.

“As I’ve said before,” she began icily, “we know precious little of the Inquisitor’s past. We need to know whether there are any threats we should be aware of. Having the name of her guildmaster could lead us down new trails. We still have no idea where that previous letter came from or what it meant. Was it related at all? Someone else who could be working for Gaspar? We need the information, Commander. It is your duty to share whatever you may have.” Leliana’s words hung in the air. Cullen resented the accusation.

“I don’t appreciate being reprimanded for withholding information, Leliana, when you yourself are the master of information control. Anything I felt was relevant to the Inquisition, I have divulged. I thought we had agreed that for now, the biggest threat to the Inquisition was from the Elder One, not some protective guildmaster who clearly had the safety of the Inquisitor already in mind.” He had drawn himself up to full height and taken a step towards her, challenging her to accuse him of disloyalty once more.

“Commander, no one is accusing you of misplaced loyalties,” Josephine jumped in as if reading his mind, trying to diffuse the tension. “We are merely surprised at your existing knowledge of the Inquisitor’s past. We are all relieved to receive word of her discharge.” She turned to Leliana. “We should ensure that the Crows received a copy of this, Sister. The discharge is useless if they are not aware.”

“They are aware” Leliana replied curtly. “My contacts have confirmed its authenticity.”

“Well that’s settled then,” Josephine replied, smiling nervously, still uneasy at the level of tension that had built between the other two.

“Just what exactly are you afraid of finding out, Sister?” Cullen continued, ignoring Josephine’s attempts at cooling things down.

“We’ve risked everything for the Inquisition,” she replied, meeting his gaze. “What we don’t know could be used against us. That includes old grudges or old connections she may want to keep hidden. Imagine if the Inquisitor were to have to choose between someone she loved and the Inquisition. Who would she pick?”

“You don’t know that,” he countered, defending her. “She’s been selfless from the start and has always put the needs of the Inquisition first.” He realized the hypocrisy of the words coming from him, but he had made amends for his past transgressions and sincerely felt this way now.

“That’s never a decision she’s had to face, Commander. I need to know if it’s one she may still yet. It’s one you should even consider yourself,” she added, a knowing look taunting him.

“What do you mean?” he asked warily. He didn’t like where she was going.

Leliana’s eyes narrowed as she spoke, her voice low and cold. “One day you will be asked to decide whether to throw the Inquisitor into the face of death to save the Inquisition, possibly the world, or protect her at the cost of thousands. Which would you pick? What would your heart let you do? Be careful, Commander,” she added even more softly as she walked past him and left the room, letting the door close heavily behind her.

Josephine was the first to break the silence. “Commander,” she began hesitantly, “please forgive Sister Leliana. She is… not herself these days.” Josephine hesitated for a moment. “The fact that she has been unable to uncover much of anything regarding the Inquisitor has her rather unnerved, which is understandable given both her position and reputation.” She smiled crookedly at Cullen. “Leliana isn’t used to coming up short when it comes to information. Unfortunately, you seem to bear the brunt of most of her frustration given how much you seem to know. You must admit, your relationship with the Inquisitor is not nearly what it once was when you first met, whereas Leliana has always had a more open mind towards her since the beginning. I daresay she’s a bit jealous, if not resentful.”

Cullen listened carefully to what the woman was saying. It did seem to make sense, though he was still somewhat perturbed at the spymaster’s attitude towards him. It bothered him even more that she had a valid point. If his feelings for the Inquisitor continued to grow, would he be able to remain unbiased? Could he remain strong and make the right decisions, even in his current condition? The lyrium withdrawal was not making it easy for him.

“Thank you, Ambassador, for the insight. I won’t forget your counsel.” He bowed his head slightly and left the War Room in search of a distraction. All this talk of judgment was clouding over the fact that for once they had received good news. She was free from the Crows. That was at least something worth celebrating and in this moment, that is what he felt like doing.

\---  
Cullen took a deep sip from his tankard and sighed in satisfaction. Nothing tasted better than a second round of ale. He had forgotten about that.

He had returned to his chambers following his report from Leliana to finish the cold plate of food Grace had brought him and decided that the news of the Inquisitor’s release was worth a pint- or two. He had joined his captains at the Herald’s Rest and was sitting comfortably at the bar listening to them and his men regale each other with tales from the field. He barely noticed Bull who pulled up a stool beside him.

“Hey Commander. How’s it going?”

“Good evening Bull,” he replied, raising his tankard slightly in greeting.

“Sure is, Commander,” he grinned at him salaciously. “Care to make it better?”

Cullen suddenly felt very uncomfortable under the big qunari’s stare. Something about the way he looked at him…

“Maker’s beard,” he groaned, realizing what was happening. “Don’t get any ideas, Bull.”

Iron Bull laughed and clapped him on the back nearly planting him into his drink. “Ah I’m just teasing Commander.”

“Damn Dorian to the Void,” he muttered under his breath. “How many people has he told?”

“Only a few of us,” Varric replied, pulling up a chair. “Apparently the look on your face was priceless Curly,” he chuckled.

Cullen sighed irritably before his head snapped over to look at the dwarf.

“Varric! What are you doing here? Aren’t you with the Inquisitor? You weren’t due back for another day. Is everything alright?” he set down his tankard and turned towards the dwarf, a concerned look on his face.

“Relax Commander, we made good time, that’s all. Those blighted Red Templars have a considerable hold on Emprise du Lion. The Inquisitor felt it best to wait for reinforcements before pursuing things much further. We ran into one of the Empress’s chevalier’s- or former chevalier, so we learned- Michel de Chevin. Seems he’s come into the Empress’s fallen graces.” Varric thanked Cabot for his drink and took a deep swig before continuing. “He’s tracked down some demon, Imshael, who’s holed up in Suledin’ Keep. The Inquisitor didn’t want to risk an ambush without enough back-up, so here we are.” The dwarf leaned back against the bar and flashed a lopsided grin at Cullen. “You seem excited Curly. Anxious to see someone?”

Cullen’s face flushed slightly as he reached for the back of his neck. “I should have been notified of the party’s return. It wouldn’t be proper for the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces to be seen wasting away an evening in the tavern while the Inquisitor may have need of her advisors.” He took a final drink of his tankard and made to leave.

Iron Bull snickered, “The Inquisitor may have a need alright, but it’s probably just for one advisor in particular and I don’t think it has much to do with a debrief.”

Varric joined the qunari in a laugh as Cullen choked on the remaining contents of his tankard. 

“Ah don’t get your nugs in a knot Curly. It’s good for morale to see the Commander spending time among the ranks,” Varric offered.

Cullen grunted in reply as he left the two men at the bar. “Thank you for the news, Varric. Bull. Good evening.”

“Hey Commander,” Bull called out to him as he walked towards the door. Cullen stopped and looked over his shoulder at him. “If you’re not interested in the ‘Vint, mind if I…?” he left the words hanging, a lascivious grin on his face. Cullen made a strangled noise in reply and hurried out of the tavern, leaving raucous laughter behind him.

Cullen was so preoccupied by the teasing he didn’t notice the figure coming down the stairs from the battlements behind the tavern. He collided with them, knocking the person back onto the stairs. His momentum sent him tumbling and he tried to pull them close with one hand gently around their neck as his other arm reached out to brace them against the steps as they landed in a heap.

“Maker! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?” he cursed as he tried to lift himself off the unsuspecting victim, gently leaning them back from his chest where he had pulled them in to shield them from the fall. His stomach back-flipped when his eyes met the gold-flecked ones of the Inquisitor staring back at him in surprise. Her lips were parted as she caught her breath. He was instantly aware of her familiar scent, a mix of fresh grass and sweet honey. It reminded him of Honnleath. 

“Commander, I’m pleased to have found you. Though if you had wanted to spar, I would have prepared otherwise,” she greeted him with a playful grin. Her arms were curled around his torso and he could feel the warmth of her touch even through his thick mantle. It took every ounce of his will to pull himself away and help her to her feet.

“Were you looking for me?” he replied, trying not to sound too eager.

She nodded. “I was just coming down from your office. Your captain, Rylen, told me he thought you were at the tavern so I was on my way to join you but I see I’m a bit late.”

“Just making the rounds, Inquisitor,” he coughed and shifted on his feet.

“It’s alright, Cullen,” she replied, smiling. “We all need to unwind sometimes. I’m sure it did wonders for the troops to see you there. We don’t want to lose sight of the small pleasures in life that make all the fighting worthwhile.” Her comforting smile melted his insides.

“You may be right,” he admitted sheepishly. “What was it that you needed me for?” he asked, trying to change the subject away from him. “Did you want to call the War Council?”

“For certain, in the morning. For now I thought I would debrief you on the information I gathered on Samson while in Emprise du Lion. It’s intriguing and I couldn’t wait until morning,” she replied, blushing slightly and looking away from him. Cullen detected a hint of embarrassment in her tone. He suspected the information, while useful, may not be so important that it couldn’t have waited. The thought of her looking for an excuse to speak with him lifted his spirits and his heart soared.

“Of course. Shall we return to my office?” he offered.

Catlyn looked up at the sky. “It’s a beautiful night, Commander. Perhaps a walk would suffice?”

Cullen nodded in agreement and the pair ascended the steps, turning right and walking away from his office. Catlyn recounted how they tracked down the red lyrium quarry and the information she gathered regarding the Templar armour. Cullen stood transfixed, watching her vivid expressions light up her face as the moonlight shone down on her. More than once he had to remind himself to focus on what it was she was saying and not the way her lips glistened as she licked them or the way her slender neck appeared so inviting. He longed to run his fingers over the smoothness of her skin. His hunger for her surprised him. The pull she had on him was so strong he could barely restrain himself.

“So what do you think Commander?”

Cullen’s thoughts swirled as he tried to remember what it was she had just said. “I think it would definitely be worth following up in the morning with Dagna,” he managed to reply seriously enough to convince her he had been paying attention.

She nodded her head in agreement. “That’s what I thought. I’ll speak to her in the morning.” She turned to look out over the battlements, down at the little campfire lights flickering below. “It looks like the sky is reflected below, there are so many lights now,” she remarked, mesmerized by how the campsite below seemed to snake down for miles along the frozen riverbed. 

Cullen turned to stare down as well. “Our forces are growing in no small thanks to your efforts,” he replied softly, his chest swelling with pride. It was true that with every passing week, more and more people committed themselves to the Inquisition. Tales of how the Inquisitor cared for her people, big and small, were spreading. Her rescue expedition to the Fallow Mire had only been the beginning. Cullen heard the stories being shared among the soldiers. People were proud to serve for the Inquisition because they had faith in the Herald of Andraste. She had proven herself time and time again and he was honoured to serve by her side.

“I hope I don’t disappoint them,” she whispered and looked up at him. “The day you raised me to Inquisitor, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good about something before in my life. Like I was finally doing something that felt right with my life. Not chasing ghosts or carrying out some vendetta on the people I felt were responsible for my mother’s heartache. Those were all selfish, narrow pursuits that brought neither honour nor pride to my family. Now I feel like I have a second chance at doing something right and helping people the way I’ve always wanted to. In a way, despite the losses we all felt, being at the Conclave was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Catlyn stared at her right hand, gently stroking just below the mark. “Given some of the decisions I’ve made, I didn’t think I would get the opportunity to set a better course for myself. Even now, I’m not so sure…” her voice trailed off before she continued. “You may have chosen me as Inquisitor, and I accepted, but the truth is that my life has been pledged already and is no longer mine to give.”

Cullen’s heart ached to see the regret etched on her features as the reality of her circumstances was laid bare. “You may have the chance yet,” he answered, hoping that the news would relieve the guilt she felt. “A letter came for you today. From the Crows.”

Catlyn’s head snapped up, anxiety gripping her. “Oh? What did it say?” her tone was tense and she was unable to mask the tremble in her voice.

“I will let you read it yourself. Leliana has it. It was from Gaspar,” he added gently.

Cullen could hear her sharp intake of breath. “Gaspar? But how could that be? I saw what was left of the Temple, there is no way he could have survived that,” she rambled in a pained voice on the edge of hysteria. 

“It was a final testament of sorts,” he explained, torn by the pain she was clearly feeling. “It gave instructions regarding your future as a Crow. Somehow he secured your discharge.”

“Discharge?” she exclaimed incredulously. “You mean I’m free? But how... why… I don’t understand…” she fumbled.

“It’s probably best if you read it yourself, Catlyn,” he replied softly. Allowing himself to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t take a copy but Leliana is no doubt in the rookery and can provide you with it. He mentioned it wasn’t your destiny to remain a Crow. He also spoke of avenging your father’s death.”

Catlyn visibly blanched at the mention of her father. “He said that? But how could he have known?”

Cullen frowned. He felt helpless in that moment to do anything to alleviate her concerns. He had expected her to be pleased at the prospect of being released from the service of the Crows but had underestimated the impact her former mentor’s words from the grave would have on her. “The letter only said he didn’t know of it before the deed was done.”

Catlyn bit her lip and looked away nervously. “I need to see the letter, Commander. If you’ll excuse me please.” She quickly moved to walk past toward the keep but he called out to her and she stopped.

“Catlyn, if there is anything I can do to help, I will. I’m sorry if the news upset you, I should have chosen a more opportune moment to tell you about it. You must be exhausted from your travels.” He looked at her in earnest, sympathy lining his face.

She returned his look with a small, apologetic smile. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry for my reaction. You were right to tell me immediately. I’m just a bit surprised is all. Tired too,” she added.

“It may be selfish of me to admit, but I’m relieved to hear of the news, Inquisitor,” Cullen replied tentatively. “I realize without this, you were with us on borrowed time, in a sense. I’m enormously grateful for your guildmaster’s foresight, for it means we will keep you by our side a while longer.”

The Inquisitor’s smile brightened in response. “I couldn’t agree more, Cullen.” She held his gaze a second longer before disappearing down the battlements and through his office toward the keep.

Cullen stayed leaning over the battlements watching the campfires flicker below like fallen stars. Though he was still a bit preoccupied over her reaction, the joyful news that she was free to stay filled him with happiness. The Elder One still loomed, but he allowed himself to feel hope in the moment. One battle won in this war was one step closer to winning it all.


	24. Building Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn opens up to her closest companions about the contents of the letter from the Crows.
> 
> Then she swings off rooftops with the Commander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos :) Complete encouragement that has me smiling all day long!

“That smell is horrible,” Catlyn wrinkled her nose and turned away from the burning pit.

“My magic isn’t able to alter the smell of things, Inquisitor. Fire is fire,” Dorian quipped.

“Let’s just find that horn and get out of here,” she replied. The party made their way through the ramparts, located the horn, then set back out to report to Corporal Rosselin. They had spent the better part of the day clearing out undead from among the western ramparts and all three of Catlyn’s companions shared her unease at fighting a constant throng of corpses.

When the Corporal asked them to deliver the news to Marshal Proulx at Fort Revesan, they were relieved to have a reason to leave the haunted battlefields, though they were disappointed to arrive at the fort only to discover the Orlesian soldiers under attack by an arcane horror. It took many of Dorian’s barriers and immolate spells to get them past it.

After speaking with the Marshal and getting an update on the situation, they decided to make camp with the soldiers for the evening before continuing on the following morning. The troops were kind enough to provide them with a warm meal and lodging for the evening.

“It’s official, I have reached new levels of desperation,” Dorian declared. “I am so desperate not to sleep on the ground again, I would shack up with rebel troops in a war I care very little about.”

“It’s not all that bad Dorian. There’s something to be said for camping under the stars,” Catlyn replied smiling. 

“Yes there can be. It’s awful. Don’t do it,” he complained.

“You can share my bed roll anytime ‘Vint,” Bull smiled suggestively at him. “You’d be too busy to notice the hard ground.”

“Yes but then I would be sandwiched between the hard ground and your massive bulk, Bull. I’m not sure that would be any better.”

“Hey, I said you’d be too busy to notice,” he grinned.

Dorian muttered under his breath as he fluffed his pillow and inspected their night’s accommodations. Catlyn would have preferred their tents but she knew how much Dorian hated it and hoped a night off the ground may improve his mood. 

Catlyn, Dorian, Bull and Cassandra joined the soldiers for their evening meal before retreating to their shared quarters. There they spent the evening catching up on correspondence and tending to their armour. Each worked in relative silence, a comfortable peace descending upon them that could only come from having traveled extensively together. They had first set out for Emprise du Lion to follow-up on the leads they had on Samson and deal with Imshael. Catlyn was very pleased to have acquired Suledin’s Keep for the Inquisition. It would help ensure an end to the red lyrium mining in the area. She was also very surprised to see Cassandra’s reaction to Michel de Chevin being recruited to the Inquisition. After having met him on their first excursion, Vivienne had filled her and the others in on the history between Michel and Empress Celene. Catlyn would have suspected that given his fall from grace and the truth about his false lineage that Cassandra wouldn’t have had the time for someone who lied in order to get ahead. Instead, she found her friend oddly forgiving, even going so far as to say that he could hardly be judged for accepting an offer made to him as a young boy by Comte Brevin de Chalons. He was so young and didn’t know any better, she had said before declaring that everything he had done since then had been to serve and protect the empress as an honourable chevalier was meant to do. She had never seen the particular look in her friend’s eyes before when she saw the two of them back together in Sahrnia, with Cassandra almost giggling bashfully as she and Michel chatted shyly with each other.

Catlyn put the final touches on her report to the Commander on Samson’s armour before turning in for the night. She stretched in her chair and lay her head back down on the desk.

“Well I’m done,” she announced. “I think I’ll turn in.”

“Sure you don’t want a drink Boss?” Bull offered his flask. “It’s been a tough few weeks.”

“Sure, why not?” she decided, smiling in thanks as she reached over and accepted the flask. She took a deep swig and sighed. “Flames of our Lady- that was always Gaspar’s favourite.” Catlyn looked forlorn as memories of her mentor flooded back.

“Sorry Boss, I didn’t realize or I would have offered something else,” Bull apologized, seeing the sadness in her eyes.

She smiled weakly. “Don’t worry about it Bull. I’m a big girl,” she replied and took another sip to convince him.

“Catlyn, if I may,” Cassandra spoke softly, hesitating. “The letter you received from Gaspar, you never really spoke about it. I can only imagine what a shock it must have been to discover it. Had you any idea of your guildmaster’s intentions?”

Catlyn looked down at her fingers. It was true, she hadn’t spoken of the letter any further, not even to Dorian. She was still struggling to make sense of it herself.

She looked up at her friends’ hopeful faces and realized that they wanted so desperately to know her, to help her, and this was perhaps one of the few remaining chances she had to offer them a glimpse into her past that showed she trusted them. She knew they trusted her with their lives. The least she could do was show the same.

“I spent many years with Gaspar before joining the Crows,” she began, looking down at her fingers. “At first I was reluctant to join. I wasn’t sure I was cut out for being an assassin. I was wild and angry and had enough of a sense of responsibility ingrained in me that I wasn’t sure I wanted anymore.” Cassandra’s eyebrow raised in question, curious as to the source of this responsibility, but asked nothing further.

She continued. “I’m impatient. And stubborn. And wilful. I got myself into trouble on a number of occasions.”

“I can’t for the life of me imagine how that could have happened,” Dorian drawled, rolling his eyes. Catlyn laughed and slapped him playfully across his thighs as he sat across from her on the cot.

“As I was saying,” she went on, shooting her friend a withering look, “I frequently found myself in predicaments. Gaspar, for reasons I’ll never completely understand, took a shine to me. He taught me discipline and how to control my emotions. When I would rage on against the nobles, he would reign me in and channel my energy. I felt safe whenever he was with me.” She paused, a swirl of memories rising to the surface.

“Sounds like he cared a great deal for you. It must have been difficult to lose him,” Cassandra said softly, her voice sympathetic.

Catlyn looked down and rolled the throat of the flask back and forth between her fingers. She took another sip to swallow back the lump in her throat. “He promised to protect me and asked whether I trusted him. I did, of course. Completely. He told me he would make sure I learned how to take care of myself and that I would have the strength one day to make a difference in the world. I’m not sure what he saw in me that I didn’t, but he was adamant. At the time I thought he meant that I would go far with the Crows, rise to the top, and gain all the best assignments. The ones involving the particularly villainous nobles. Now, I’m not so sure that’s what he meant,” she trailed off, lost in her thoughts.

“Did you know your file was blank?” Cassandra asked. Catlyn stared back at her in surprise. She shook her head. “It was one of Leliana’s many sources of frustration about your past. Everything of importance there is to know about a member of the Antivan Crows is in their file. Family, education, assignments, greatest weakness, greatest strengths. Yours contained nothing but your first name and a brief physical description.”

Catlyn was speechless. “I had no idea. I don’t even understand…”

“It’s obvious Boss. He kept you with him to keep an eye on your but didn’t want your future ruined by an obligation to the Crows. Even if you left on good terms, the information in your file in the wrong hands could be used against you.” Bull’s explanation made so much sense, though she remained shocked at the fact that she was ignorant to this information. She assumed she had been treated like everyone else. In a way, this was just like Gaspar, she thought. Only he would have thought to do that.

“What did he mean about ‘avenging the irony’? What was the link to your father?” Dorian asked.

Catlyn drew the line there. She was willing to talk about some things, but never that. “It’s complicated. I’d rather not talk about it, please.” Her supplicant tone was enough to stop him and he bowed his head respectfully, aware that she was already making a great effort to share a piece of her with them as she had never done before.

“You going to drink that whole thing yourself?” Bull broke the awkward silence.

“It’s all yours Bull,” Catlyn smiled and handed him back the flask. “I’m exhausted anyways. It would be wasted on me. I think I will go to bed now.” She rose and made her way over to her bed, shedding her boots and armour, and snuggling up under the covers, falling immediately into a deep sleep.

\---

Catlyn’s heart always leapt for joy when the soaring towers of Skyhold came into view. Though she often felt a nagging desire to leave, usually when the nobles that plagued the great hall of the keep became too insufferable for her to bear, an even greater longing to return pulled at her as soon as she was gone.

She spurred on her mount in an easy canter as she came up to the causeway, stopping only when she reached the stables. She dismounted with ease and walked her horse over to Master Dennet who was smiling as he stood waiting for her.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been riding for such a short time, Inquisitor,” he greeted her with a laugh. “You look like an extension of the mare herself.”

“I believe I have your daughter to thank for that, Master Dennet,” she replied with a grin. “She set some good courses and was an excellent teacher.”

He chuckled with pride. “That she would do, my Seanna.”

“May I?” she asked, pulling a carrot from her pack. It had become a habit of hers, offering her mare a carrot after a long ride. Apples if she rode her into battle, which usually was unwillingly. She had grown close to her roan mare and didn’t like risking her safety by charging foolishly into harm’s way.

“Too many and she’ll go soft on you,” he teased, but waved his hand to indicate she could continue. The mare nickered at her softly as she snatched the treat from her hand. She patted her muzzle and whispered gently to her before handing her over to the horsemaster.

Despite a rumble in her belly, there was only one place she had to go first. She climbed the stairs leading up to the tavern and was almost up the second flight when she heard Varric call up to her.

“Can’t resist, can you Snips?” he teased, his head nodding towards the Commander’s office. Catlyn flushed red and muttered under her breath, looking around nervously to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily Harding was out in the field and not in her usual place and the rest of the people milling about seemed too preoccupied to notice. Varric waggled his fingers at her in salute as he disappeared into the Herald’s Rest.

Catlyn quickly bounded up the remaining steps and knocked on the door before allowing herself in. The Commander was standing behind his desk, deep in discussion with one of his captains. As he turned to look at the new arrival, she could see his furrowed brow relax and his face light up as her recognized her. His immediate change in demeanour set her heart ablaze.

“Inquisitor! You’re back,” he greeted her formally yet warmly. He quickly finished his discussion and sent the captain on his way with a fresh stack of orders. She took a few steps closer towards him and stopped, resting her hip comfortably on the edge of his desk. “How were the Exalted Plains?” he asked.

“Very contradictory, Commander,” she replied with a lopsided grin. He returned her smile quizzically. “On the one hand, the lands are barren and destroyed from years of battle and destruction. Yet there are pockets, such as where the remaining elves live, that are lush and green and full of promise. By the way, we recruited an elven agent named Loranil. He should be arriving shortly to check in.” The Commander nodded his head in admiration, a gesture that filled Catlyn with pride. “But tell me, what have you been busy doing here? Did you receive my correspondence on Samson and the lyrium?”

The Commander’s face darkened at the mention of the Red Templar. “I did. It has proven most useful. I passed on everything to Dagna who has been very busy. She’s started work on the red lyrium samples you kindly sent back for her but she needs more detail on the armour. We found orders in the mine. They mention Maddox, a name I did not expect to hear.”

“Samson’s letters said something about taking over as the ‘vessel’. What’s that all about?” she asked.

“Perhaps it’s a rank among the Red Templars. It could be a title from ancient Tevinter.”

“I could ask Dorian to look into it,” she offered. She was grateful to be able to involve her friend more openly now that he and the Commander appeared to be on better terms.

Cullen nodded. “Or it’s some other role Corypheus has planned for Samson and Maddox is part of it.”

“Is this someone you know? Another voice from your past?” she asked.

“In a way. This is complicated,” he replied, wrinkling his nose in frustration. “Maddox was the mage Samson was helping to smuggle letters for. When the Knight-Commander found out and exiled Samson from the Order, she had Maddox made Tranquil.”

“That’s horrible!” Catlyn gasped.

“Knight-Commander Meredith wielded the brand for lesser offences, believe me.” Catlyn suddenly understood a bit better the extent of how horrible that period must have been for him. “Perhaps Samson recruited him for his knowledge. Maddox became very skilful in enchanting afterwards.”

“Having an inside among Samson’s forces would be invaluable, if we could convince him. Do you think there’s a chance?”

“I couldn’t say,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’ve lived among Tranquil most of my life and I’ve never understood them. It seems Maddox built Samson’s armour for him and maintains it still. Tranquil in Kirkwall needed rare and expensive supplies for their enchantments- supplies we can trace. I can have our men kick down some doors, Inquisitor. Samson’s armour might lead us straight to his stronghold.”

Catlyn nodded in agreement. “I’ll let you get started on that Commander. In the meantime, I’m going to kick down the doors to the kitchen. I’m starving. Care to join me?” she asked rather hopefully.

Cullen smiled sheepishly in return. “I’ll admit, even despite your little champion’s best efforts, I haven’t done a good job at eating much lately. Though suddenly, I am feeling rather ravenous,” he said and placed a hand on his stomach.

Catlyn’s heart danced. “Shall we then?” He smiled and headed for the door leading to the keep.

“This way Commander,” Catlyn motioned out the side door. “It’s faster.”

The Commander frowned. He knew the battlements hadn’t been repaired on that side yet. As they didn’t lead anywhere in particular, they hadn’t been made a priority. Skeptical, he followed her nonetheless as she made her way out the door toward the crumbled stone crater in the wall. He started as she leapt down into the pit.

“Catlyn! Where are you going?” he called out in alarm as she made to jump off the edge.

She smiled mischievously as him. “Not afraid of heights are you Commander?”

“No, it’s my better sense preventing me from throwing myself off the battlements,” he retorted.

Catlyn’s laugh rang back up through the air as she jumped off. She heard him gasp behind her and rush over to the side to see her land on the roof of a shed before leaping to the ground, somersaulting nimbly back up to her feet. She stood staring up at him, her hip jutted cockily out to the side.

“Coming?” she taunted him.

“Maker’s beard,” she head him curse. Curious as to whether he would accept her challenge, she was pleasantly relieved as he made his way down the rubble to the lowest point. She saw him take a deep breath before leaping down, landing on the roof with a loud crash as his armour hit the roof. It was slightly slanted and slick from the recently melted snow, which caused him to lose his footing. His sabatons did not afford him the same agility her assassin’s boots did and he slipped and fell, rolling down the short roof. Catlyn watched in dismay as the Commander caught the edge of the roof just in time to dangle for a moment and regain his balance before dropping down the rest of the way into the bushes. He staggered back just as Catlyn rushed up to meet him.

“Are you ok?” she giggled, unable to contain herself.

Cullen looked about nervously, trying to smooth down his mantle that had caught on his pauldrons. He was flustered and Catlyn guessed his pride was injured more than anything else.

“I’m fine,” he said brusquely before adding, “Next time, can we just use the stairs like civilized people?”

Catlyn snorted as she tried to stifle a laugh. “You sound like Dorian,” she replied. Although he tried to remain stern, Cullen’s face broke into a bashful smile as he chuckled along with her.

“Come on, let’s get something to eat before anyone comes over to investigate the noise,” he said, placing his hand on her lower back and pushing her towards the kitchen staircase.

“You did make a spectacular noise,” she stared admiringly at him.

“Rascal,” he growled, pulling her into a playful headlock. Catlyn squealed in response and quickly wiggled her way out, bounding up the stairs with Cullen close on her heels. He caught her just as she reached the door and he spun her around, pinning her against the door. She laughed breathlessly as he leaned in close to her face and whispered in her ear.

“Do you know what the punishment is for trouble-makers, Inquisitor?” he murmured, his sweet breath warm on her cheek. Catlyn’s heart beat even faster as her breath caught in her throat.

“Enlighten me, Commander,” she managed in reply, her voice throaty and deep. He pulled back slightly and fixed her eyes in his golden stare. Her lips were mere inches from his and she longed to trace them against his scar. Just as she could feel him leaning in, the door behind her gave way and she tumbled backwards, falling unceremoniously onto the floor. As she stared back up, her face met that of a startled servant’s.

“I-Inquisitor! I’m so sorry my lady! I didn’t see you there!” he stammered, ashen-faced.

Catlyn groaned and got up, dusting herself off and giving the young man an apologetic smile. “Tough latch from the other side. Didn’t mean to startle you my friend,” she replied trying her best to compose herself. She could hear Cullen snicker behind her. “As you were,” she gestured to the servant who hurried by her.

“Herald! Where are those supplies you promised me?” Cook Donatien’s booming voice echoed through the kitchen. “Flour, potatoes, peas, salted meat- how do you expect me to feed these masses you keep recruiting? And while you’re at it, add turnips to the list. Someone’s burnt the last batch,” he added irritably.

Catlyn smiled sweetly at the rotund older man. She had been happy to learn of his escape from Haven following the attack from Corypheus. “It’s on my to-do list,” she replied cheekily, swiping a loaf of bread and hunk of cheese deftly as she passed by the stores.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, thief,” he grumbled at her. “Supper’s not for another hour. Now get out of here and don’t come back empty-handed next time. At least the willow switches came in,” he threatened. Catlyn’s joyful laugh filled the air as she danced her way out of the kitchen, the Commander following close on her heels.

They fell into the basement foyer clutching their sides in laughter. Catlyn broke off a piece of her stolen goods and handed them to Cullen who accepted it gratefully. They each took a bite, sighing in satisfaction. Nothing tasted better than oven-fresh bread.

“You know, there are some amazing vintages in the cellar,” she suggested, motioning behind him. “Nothing washes down cheese like good arbour gold,” she waggled her eyebrows at him.

He chuckled. “Have you even let the others know you have arrived yet?” he chided her.

She shrugged guiltily. “I’m sure Cassandra let Josie and Leliana know I’m back.”

He looked at her admonishingly, though he could hardly keep the mirth from his eyes. “I’m sure they will want news of your travels. I should also speak to Rylen about getting patrols out on the hunt for Samson.”

“Spoilsport,” she muttered, taking another bite of her bread.

“As delightful as swinging from rooftops and scaring the serving staff may be, we do have a fair amount of work ahead,” he reminded her, a smile curling on his lips.

Catlyn sighed in defeat and turned to walk to the staircase, Cullen falling into stride beside her. Her skin prickled as she felt him lean in to whisper in her ear.

“Though the look on your face when you fell on your ass was priceless.”

Catlyn flushed crimson and swatted at his shoulder, sending him chuckling in satisfaction. Her stomach double-pirouetted in response to his deep laugh and she had to bite her lip from having it spread into a goofy smile. Maker, she was glad to be home.


	25. Broken Bones, Broken Hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little harmless practicing on the battlements leads to unexpected ultimatums from the Seeker.

“I want a squadron organized and ready to leave within a day, Captain, along with a team of healers. Some of the best fighters will be required and especially those who are adept at stealth. This may be our only chance to catch Samson unaware. We must move quickly,” Cullen laid out his orders efficiently and with confidence. 

“Yes Ser,” his captain replied. “Will you be accompanying them as planned?”

“Yes and I will want you to stay back and manage things on my behalf until I return. You know the orders and I trust your judgment. The Inquisition will be in good hands,” he smiled at Rylen. He could see him straighten with pride. Confidence from the commander could go a long way in ensuring success among the troops and Cullen knew how to effectively manage his team.

“Thank you Ser. I will see to the preparations at once,” he replied and saluted in dismissal. As the captain left his office, another entered in his wake. Cullen smiled warmly in greeting.

“Good morning Inquisitor. Fine day, is it not?” he asked, trying hard to suppress a laugh. The Inquisitor looked, for lack of a better word, horrible. Her usual bright and cheerful eyes were dark and hooded and her creamy white skin had a hint of green to it. Her hair was always perfectly braided and coiled in elaborate patterns: but today, loose strands were sticking out and falling in her eyes.

She looked disheveled and very hungover.

The Inquisitor mumbled something incoherent in response before diving for the half-filled glass of water on his desk. She downed the contents in three gulps before setting it back down, sighing miserably.

“What was it this time,” he mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Wicked Grace? King’s Cup?”

“Quarters,” she cut in with a groan. “Damn Sera and Bull to the Void. They ganged up on my. It wasn’t fair,” she complained, running a hand over her face.

Cullen snickered. “What do you expect, playing with those two? I’m shocked they didn’t somehow manage to involve the removal of clothing in the process.” He heard stories of the group’s antics whenever they were together at Skyhold. Varric and Dorian were usually involved as well. 

“What makes you think they didn’t?” she peeked out at him from between her fingers. Cullen’s face fell slightly in dismay. The Inquisitor quickly laughed and added, “Oh it didn’t get that out of hand Commander. I wasn’t interested in a walk of shame last night.”

Cullen recovered quickly and cleared his throat. “Relieved to hear you still maintained some good sense, Inquisitor.”

Catlyn grinned at him mischievously before turning to a more serious tone. “Your message said it was important, Commander, so here I am. What was so critical that it couldn’t wait for breakfast?”

Cullen looked at her curiously, one eyebrow raised. “It’s nearly noon, Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor’s eyes widened before she closed them and groaned. “Andraste’s ass… Alright, noted, Commander. What can I help you with?”

Cullen smiled and shook his head. If he didn’t know what an amazing effect the Inquisitor’s practical, personable approach to things had on morale, he might feel the need to curtail some of her escapades. Instead, he resigned himself to accept her gregarious ways and kept watch from a distance. 

“We’ve located Samson’s hideout. I believe it will be well-reinforced with more Red Templars, so I’ve taken the liberty of assembling a squadron of our best forces and will lead them myself. We can be ready tomorrow.”

The Inquisitor nodded. “Thank you, Commander. I would appreciate the reinforcements. If there’s anything I learned from Emprise du Lion it’s that these Red Templars are unlike anything I’ve faced before." She didn’t need to tell him that she had found herself unconscious on more than one occasion and had it not been for Dorian forcing a regeneration potion down her throat, her journey would have ended in a snowy drift somewhere in the Sahrnia quarry.

“Their armour is remarkable, even if its source is abhorrent. Coupled with their training, they make for a formidable foe,” he agreed.

“That reminds me,” she started tentatively. “You offered once to train with me. Give me some insight into Templar training and what I can expect. I can’t think of a better reason to take you up on that offer, what with us potentially walking into another Red Templar stronghold. Care to follow through?”

Cullen eyed her doubtfully. “Are you sure Inquisitor? You don’t really appear in the best form at the moment and you’ll need all your forces for our mission.” Truthfully, the idea of testing her in a battle appealed to him quite a bit, but he needed to put her well-being before his selfish desires.

“It would take more than a little headache to keep me from beating you, Commander,” she countered, her eyes twinkling.

Cullen let out a short laugh. “Really now? Is that a challenge, Inquisitor? I accept. Meet me on the northern battlements in an hour. It will give you some more time to sober up. Don’t want you to fall that quickly,” he grinned.

“No audience? Afraid of what your troops will think when I best their commander?” she taunted, sashaying over to the door.

“Only looking out for your best interests, Inquisitor. It wouldn’t do well for your reputation to have everyone see you fall at my feet, begging for mercy,” he retorted.

“I never beg, Commander,” she winked at him as she slipped out of the room.

Cullen swallowed hard as his heart raced in anticipation. The next hour was going to pass by painfully slowly.

\---  
“I should be back by supper, Rylen. You know where to find me if there is anything urgent.”

“Of course, Ser.” He waved to his captain as he set off towards the northern battlements, swinging his shield casually on his left arm. The sun was shining and snow was melting off the roof of the towers, leaving little puddles around the perimeter.

Cullen made his way over to their agreed upon location a few minutes early, wanting to prepare himself. While his intention was to ensure the Inquisitor was well-prepared for what they would face at Samson’s hideout, a nervous excitement was building in his chest and he wanted to compose himself first. It had been a long time since he had seen her in battle and under those circumstances, his focus had been elsewhere. The thought of watching her lithe body spin into action like he often heard told by Varric and the others had him almost trembling in anticipation.

As he opened the last tower door and stepped outside, he was startled to find the Inquisitor leaning languidly on the stone rail, one leg casually hooked around the other. She turned her head and greeted him with a sly smile.

“Surprised, Commander?”

“Inquisitor! I didn’t expect to find you here so soon, given your earlier state,” he replied. So much for advance position, he thought. “Glutton for punishment I see?”

“I’ve done nothing wrong and have nothing to fear,” she dismissed his jab confidently.

“That’s quite the cavalier attitude for someone claiming they needed help,” he said, resting his hand on the pommel of his practice sword.

“Attitude is everything,” she shrugged and smiled. “I’m not above seeking every advantage.”

“You’ll need it where we’re headed,” he replied with sincerity. “Templars are heavily armoured and well-trained, as you know. Stealth is key, though speed is even more critical if you are to catch them off-guard and strike at their vulnerable side.”

“And where might that be, Commander?” she asked, her tone still light and teasing. Cullen had a hard time keeping a straight face as she stared up at him in feigned wonder.

“Are you just going to stand there and mock me?” he crossed his arms and looked at her as sternly as he could muster.

“Of course not,” she laughed and took two steps toward him. “I’m here to beat you.” In a flash, she had spun around low to his flank, drawing her twin daggers, and slashed at his sides leaving white chalk marks. Superficial wounds, but they brought Cullen to attention and he drew his sword and readied his shield.

“Did they train you to fight dirty as a Crow?” he growled, though his eyes betrayed his amusement. 

“They taught us to take advantage of a situation,” she countered cheekily.

“I doubt Samson’s men will stop to discuss the weather with you before attacking,” he warned. “Your best offence is to get them to open up and lunge at you. If you try to attack them straight on, their shield will deflect your smaller daggers, committing you and leaving you exposed.”

“I found that out the hard way a few times,” she winced at the memory.

“Your advantage lies in how unencumbered you are. You can move more quickly and deftly than they can. You need to lure them into you and get around the shield. Like this,” he lunged at her expectedly and she danced away from him toward his shield side. As she spun to his left, he knocked her back with his shield, sending her staggering back in surprise.

“if you spin to shield side, you gain no advantage. You need to practice moving toward the sword hand, which seems counterintuitive but given your daggers offer you no real defence, you need to position yourself fin such a way as to remain as far from the shield as possible.”

The Inquisitor nodded her head and crouched down, her playful demeanour gone and an intense focus in its place instead. So they continued, Cullen calling out instructions and encouragement as the two parried, lifted and thrust their way around the battlements. Before long, both were sweating and their chests were heaving.

“A moment, Commander,” the Inquisitor held up her hands and stepped back. Impressed with her form and progress, Cullen happily allowed the pause. Her features when fighting were very different compared to the night he watched her back in Haven. Her silky, fluid movements were the same, but in the light the look of intense ferocity on her face shone. He could feel himself reacting strongly in response, his heart racing and adrenaline pumping. The draw he felt in her presence was heightened as they battled this way.

“Winded already?” he teased, but he quickly caught his breath as he watched her remove her supple leather cuirass. She slung it over her head and tossed it casually on the ground, adding her gloves to the pile as well. The soft woolen tunic she wore underneath clung to her with sweat, revealing a small waist and generous bosom. Her armour covered most of her feminine assets and seeing her undone with the sun shining at her back nearly knocked him off his feet.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes a little wild. How was he supposed to concentrate now?

“I’m boiling, Commander. Hard to think when you’re melting on the inside,” she shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know how you manage under all that steel.”

Admittedly, it was like being inside a furnace at times. He had left his mantle in his office, which offered a slight respite, but he suddenly longed to be unencumbered like she was. He strode toward the tower, leaning his weapon and shield against the wall as he unfastened his breastplate and pauldrons, setting them down neatly on the ground. He too wore a woolen tunic underneath, though his was tight across his broad shoulders, falling loosely at his hips as he untucked it from his leather breeches. He dropped his gauntlets as well before picking up his sword and shield and turning to face the Inquisitor. His chest puffed out in pride ever so slightly as he saw her gape at him before quickly composing herself. Lyrium withdrawal or not, Cullen knew he had an impressive build and was secretly pleased that the Inquisitor appeared to share the same opinion.

“Shall we?” he gestured, his arms open in invitation. The Inquisitor’s lips curled up and she resumed her battle stance. They lashed out at each other, dancing on the battlements, laughter ringing through the air as Cullen barked out instructions and the Inquisitor fought to keep up. Both of them lost themselves in the moment, relishing the fact that they were duelling more as companions than as a teacher and pupil. Cullen was again impressed at how well she fought and how quickly she picked up his instructions. She landed a good many deciding blows that encouraged him. It meant she was in a better position to protect herself in battle.

As their duelling went on, Cullen decided to make a final move and claim his victory. Though she had made great progress, he wasn’t prepared to let her win their contest. His strikes became a touch stronger, his advances more forceful as he slowly backed her up toward the tower. As he thrust his sword out expecting her to parry and brought in his shield arm, he was caught off-guard as she shot her arms up and out to counter his attack, lunging forward at the same time. Just as she advanced, she stepped into one of the puddles and lost her footing. Her arms went flailing as her legs slipped out from under her, catching Cullen and knocking him down as well. They tumbled into a heap, with Cullen bracing himself on the ground with his shield arm and his sword crashing down beside them. They burst into a fit of laughter at their awkward landing.

“As you ok?” he managed to ask. “You didn’t knock your head, did you?” He rolled himself off to one side, propping himself up on his shield arm to stare down at her.

“My elbow,” she groaned between giggles. “I think I hit my funny bone,” she snorted with laughter as she cradled her right elbow.

“Is it broken?” he gently took it in his hand, inspecting the damage.

“The only thing broken is my pride, Commander,” she replied with a smirk.

“Seems you have a habit of falling on your arse when I have you cornered,” he teased.

“I wasn’t cornered,” she huffed.

“Pinned, cornered, it’s all the same,” he countered. “I do believe I won. And I believe we had a little wager as well.” His lips curled mischievously as he recalled their bet in the garden the afternoon she discovered he and Dorian playing chess. 

She rested her hands on his chest, gently toying with the fabric of his shirt. “Planning on having your way with me, Cullen?” she purred, her face flushed and eyes liquid night. His name on her lips caused his heart to beat wildly and he was drawn down to her lips as she licked them, leaving them wet and red. Cullen inhaled deeply, savouring her familiar scent mixed in with the sweet smell of sweat and heat. She bit down on her bottom lip and stared back at him with want in her eyes that enveloped them in their own little world.

Just then, the door to the tower burst open and the Seeker strode him, looking down at them in surprise.

“Commander! What are you doing?” her face registered shock as she took in the sight before her. Cullen quickly rolled away from the Inquisitor; the moment shattered, he got to his feet leaving her unceremoniously sprawled on her ground.

“Ah, we were-“

“We were practicing Cass,” the Inquisitor replied from her position on the floor.

“Practicing what, exactly?” the Seeker inquired, her tone greatly disapproving.

“I asked the Commander to help me better prepare for facing the Red Templars. My training in full armoured combat was limited in the Crows. You saw what happened in Emprise du Lion,” she looked at the Seeker knowingly. They exchanged a look and the Seeker seemed to accept the truth and her tone softened slightly.

“Where is your armour? And why are you on the ground?” she continued, suspicion still lingering.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s actually warm out today. I slipped in the puddle just as the Commander was going to unleash a defeating blow,” she replied, recognizing she had been on the losing end of the battle.

“I see,” she replied, crossing her arms and pursing her lips.

“I was merely inspecting the damage, Seeker,” Cullen added in his defence. The look she gave him told him she remained unconvinced that the scene before her was completely innocent.

“Since you’re here now, maybe we can go over plans for tomorrow?” the Inquisitor offered, finally rising to her feet.

“That was in fact why I was looking for the Commander,” the Seeker replied.

“Oh, you didn’t want to see me then? We’ll I will leave you to it. I should probably go get a second opinion on my elbow anyways. Thank you again for the lesson, Commander. It was exhilarating.” She picked up her armour and slung it casually over her shoulder, winking at him as she left. His heart pounded just a little harder in response. As soon as the Inquisitor left, the Seeker turned on him.

“I believe we spoke once about this Commander. You assured me I had no cause for concern. Am I to continue to believe this is the case?”

Cullen took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I injured her, Seeker,” he repeated slowly. “As I said, I was inspecting the damage.”

“Do not take me for a fool, Commander. I see the way you look at her. You would need to know you well to see it, but I do. I also see her when we travel. Her mood dampens as we leave Skyhold and immediately lightens upon our return. Your office is the first place she runs off to.” Cassandra stared at him coolly, her arms still locked in front of her chest.

“We have been working closely together on Samson’s whereabouts and his remarkable ability to withstand the red lyrium. Time is of the essence,” he added somewhat lamely at the end, struggling to find a plausible excuse for the time they had been spending together. 

Cassandra snorted. “Don’t insult me Cullen. We have not sacrificed this much to put everything in jeopardy because you have some silly notion that flirting with the Inquisitor can lead you someplace desirable. If you have needs, satisfy them elsewhere.”

“That is not what this is about,” he replied harshly, offended that she was suggesting he was merely toying with the Inquisitor with the goal of bedding her. “She is not some exploit like Bull’s or a notch in my belt. She is an extraordinary woman. Intelligent, strong, kind. She deserves to be treated with love and respect-”

“And you think that should be you?” she cut him off.

Cullen faltered slightly, aware of what he was admitting. “I- I didn’t say that,” he stammered.

“You needn’t have to. I can read it all over your face. Do you know the risk you take? The risk you are forcing her to take?” Cullen stared at her, his eyes hard. “As confident as our Herald appears, she struggles with secrets we still don’t fully understand. We ask her the impossible every day. The last thing she needs is a distraction. She needs to be fully committed to our cause. So do you,” she added. “You already struggle with lyrium withdrawal. You don’t need any more personal matters getting in the way of your ability to lead.”

“Is that how you feel, Seeker? That I am distracted? That somehow my performance as leader of the Inquisition’s forces has been compromised?” he replied, injured. “We had agreed that if you felt my decision to stop taking lyrium threatened my ability to lead, you would force me to step down.”

“It is not your decision to stop taking lyrium that concerns me. Thus far you have proven yourself competent despite the withdrawal,” she answered.

Cullen frowned. “Then tell me, Seeker. Have I done something to misplace your confidence in me? Have I made a decision that resulted in a setback to the Inquisition?”

Cassandra returned his glare with her own hard look. “Not yet, Commander. But in this I see a greater risk and I know I am not alone. Sister Leliana has many of the same concerns. Mixing personal with business affairs poses a threat to judgment. Given your condition, I think it’s too great a threat to ignore.”

“Well you need not concern yourselves. There is nothing going on between the Inquisitor and I,” he replied flatly.

Cassandra stood silently staring at him before answering. “Good. I trust you will put the interests of the Inquisition above your own.”

“I always have, Seeker.”

She grunted before turning and walked back toward the tower, disappearing through the door and leaving Cullen alone on the battlements. His head was swimming and he suddenly felt drained of all life.

He walked over to the edge and leaned down, staring out into the valley. A whole new encampment had blossomed on the left bank of the rover, bringing thousands more soldiers and refugees into the fold. He dropped his head and sighed. Regardless of his feelings for the Inquisitor, the Seeker was right: too much depended on them to risk being distracted in any way. Leliana’s question had offended him at the time but he reluctantly admitted that the point she made was valid. Could he truly and without bias send someone he cared for so deeply into battle knowing he could be sending her to her death? Could he make the hard decision? He had been tasked once with cutting down the woman he loved should she become an abomination. He had accepted and believed he could do it, but never had to face that outcome. Had it been different, could he have followed through? Back then he had been young and full of hope and strength. Now he was a battered soul, scarred by years of brutality and injustice, tortured by demons from his past. In his current state, surely he would crack under the weight of such a choice.

He stood, strengthening his resolve. He wouldn’t force his advisors into making any decision for him that he couldn’t make himself. Despite his growing feelings for the Inquisitor, he had to put an end to it before things got any more carried away.


	26. Bleeding Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn's left heartbroken as the Commander seems to have had a change of heart.

Catlyn woke smiling. She rolled her head to the side and looked out the balcony doors at the beautiful day dawning. The skies were clear and the sun was shining hard enough for her to feel its warmth on her bare shoulders that were peeking out from under the covers. Perfect day to set out on a mission, she thought to herself. This time it would be even more special as a certain commander would be joining them.

She squirmed with excitement. She could hardly stop thinking about their training on the battlements the day before. When he had peeled himself out of his armour, she nearly melted along with the other puddles dotting the battlements. Catlyn had always assumed the Commander would have a strong physique, the years of Templar training having permanently etched themselves on his features despite what little time he now spent in the field. But nothing had quite prepared her for seeing him in that state. His broad shoulders stretched through his sweat-soaked shirt that clung to every line as he moved, and the contour of his chiselled stomach rippled in tight waves down to the top of his breeches. He held his sword with such ease it was as if it were a mere extension of his arm. He moved around her with skill and confidence like a lion stalking its prey. She idly wondered whether that skill extended to other areas and had just closed her eyes with a sigh to conjure up specific examples in her mind when she heard a knock on her door. Her eyes shot open in irritation as the sound of little feet came bounding up the steps.

“Morning Cat!” Grace beamed at her, skipping over to her bedside and plopping down beside her. “You’re up late! Everyone is getting ready. Didn’t you want to eat first?”

“Good morning little dove,” she answered, smiling despite her brief annoyance. “How late is it?”

“You wanted to leave before the sun crested Raven’s Peak, so I would say you have about enough time to get dressed and grab a bun to run,” the little girl replied giggling. 

Catlyn groaned and rubbed her eyes. The tonic Vivienne had mixed her to relieve the throbbing pain in her elbow must have knocked her out harder than she had expected. “Andraste’s flaming sword,” she mumbled. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“I tried but you wouldn’t budge,” Grace whined. “But don’t worry. I finished packing for you and your horse is ready to go. You’ll have to skip a bath but I’ll run down and grab some breakfast for you.”

“You’re a doll, Grace,” she smiled and the little girl beamed in reply. Grace scampered back down the stairs, leaving Catlyn to wash and dress quickly before making her way down.

The morning air was fresh and filled with peaty warmth from the melting ground. Spring was bringing new life to Skyhold, one that was decidedly welcome after the bone-chilling cold they had experienced as of late. While it led to a fair amount of mud and the mountain path was a bit more dangerous as a result, very few people complained of the improved temperature.

As she rounded the corner to the stables, she daw Dorian and Bull engaged in conversation on their mounts while Cassandra was fastening the last of her clasps on her saddle. Grace had just finished closing the flap on Catlyn’s travel pack before she turned and waved to her, shouting “Bye, good luck!” before racing back up the steps to the kitchen. She was never still that one, Catlyn smiled to herself.

“There you are sleepyhead! I thought for a moment you had decided to take up permanent residence in your bed, leaving the rest of us to your dirty work,” Dorian greeted her.

“And leave you with all the glory?” she replied rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Inquisitor,” Cassandra oozed disapprovingly at her, having now swung herself into her saddle.

“Viv’s tonic knocked me out Cass. I didn’t expect that,” she offered by way of apology.

Cassandra grunted. “How is your elbow?”

Catlyn stretched and flexed her arm. “Good as new. Solas did a good job at mending it.” Cassandra nodded her head at her and Catlyn looked around. “Where is the Commander? I thought he was traveling with us.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He and his corporal have already descended to assemble the squadron. He will meet us at the bottom of the path.”

“Let’s get moving then. Don’t want to keep our dear commander waiting, do we?” Dorian winked at Catlyn before swinging his horse around and towards the gate. Catlyn caught Cassandra’s disapproving glare as she swung up onto her mount. The Seeker was obviously still a bit put out after having found them on the battlements. She wasn’t exactly sure why Cassandra had been angry, though she suspected the scene she had walked in on might not have met her moral standards.

Catlyn followed her companions out across the causeway and down the steep path. They moved slowly to allow their mounts sure footing on the muddy mountainside. Catlyn made a mental note to speak to the Commander about having the path improved. 

As they reached the bottom, they were met by the Commander and Corporal Vale who had recently arrived from the Hinterlands. Behind them a group of soldiers stood at the ready. There was one caravan among them that held their camping supplies, as Samson’s hideout was several days’ ride away. They had packed as lightly as they could in an effort to make good time, planning to forage and hunt along the way. Catlyn noticed a few of the best hunters among the group and smiled. The Commander liked to ensure his soldiers were well-provisioned at all times, especially when he knew they were going to be pushed rather hard. They wanted to catch Samson before he had time to flee so their journey was going to be tough and swift.

“We’re ready to depart on your command, Inquisitor,” he greeted her as she made her way to his side. She was a bit surprised at the clip to his tone, shorter than usual.

“Thank you, Commander. We’re ready if you are.” He nodded and called forth the march, swinging his horse ahead of the soldiers, leading them forward. Catlyn quickly rode up beside him.

“Is everything alright Commander?” she asked gently, unsure whether she was reading too much into his tone or not.

“Everything is under control, Inquisitor. If we ride hard today we may make it to Val Foret by dusk.” His reply was short and very business-like. Catlyn’s confidence wavered a bit further.

“It certainly seems like a promising day for a good ride,” she replied. She hesitated before continuing, dropping her voice slightly. “Thank you again for your help yesterday, Cullen. I feel more confident heading into this mission now.”

He nodded but continued staring ahead. “I trust Solas had a look at your elbow and deemed it safe to journey today?” His tone remained impassive and cool.

“Whatever he did it hurt like mad at first, but it feels as good as new now. I bet I could even go for round two later,” she added hopefully.

“I’m glad to hear it as nothing serious. If you’ll excuse me Inquisitor, I need to speak to Corporal Vale.” With that, he pulled his horse back and trotted toward the soldiers leaving Catlyn behind confused and hurt. There was no mistaking it now. Something had happened between them and she was helpless at figuring out what it could be.

Dorian pulled up beside her. “Everything alright?” he asked gently. Catlyn quickly shook her mask back into place and smiled at her friend.

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

Dorian smirked at her knowingly. “It doesn’t take a Ben-Hassrath to know something is wrong, darling. Only a good friend,” he replied, casting a sidelong glance back ay Bull who was riding several paces behind them.

Catlyn dropped her eyes to her saddle. She knew it would be useless trying to hide anything from Dorian. “I don’t know,” she mumbled dejectedly. “Since Cassandra walked in on us practicing on the battlements yesterday he’s suddenly very distant.”

“What exactly did she walk in on you doing?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Catlyn flushed slightly and grinned at him sideways. “At the specific moment when she found us, we were lying in a sweaty heap, armour cast aside in piles. I suppose it may have looked a bit suspicious.”

Dorian let out a hearty laugh. “You saucy little minx! No wonder Cassandra looked like a storm cloud yesterday. The woman is used to reading about that kind of thing in her dreadful novels but seeing it in person must have been quite a shock.”

“But why is the Commander suddenly so distant?” Catlyn wondered out loud. “He was anything but at the time.”

Dorian scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know, could be a number of things. Embarrassment. The fact that he is in front of his men now and not alone with the Inquisitor locked in a sweaty embrace atop the ramparts,” he offered. 

“Nothing happened, Dorian,” she quickly insisted. “There was no embracing so to speak.”

“Perhaps not, but it sounds like there was something. Which, by the way, I’m relieved you have finally acknowledged,” he stared at her pointedly. Catlyn managed a contrite look in return. “Everyone is anxious to deal with this Samson menace. It’s likely preoccupying his thoughts. Try not to take it too personally. And cheer up- it’s actually warm for a change. As sad as I am not to freeze to death every night, I will not miss the stink of the furs I need to layer myself in to keep warm."

Catlyn and the others continued their journey, discussing all manner of trivia to pass the time. They made good progress as the Commander had hoped for and set up camp roughly two days’ ride from Samson’s hideout. Much to Catlyn’s disappointment, the Commander had chosen to set up his tent among the soldiers, saying he needed to discuss strategy with Vale. Catlyn’s heart sank a little further at his continued coolness.

By the third day, she was distraught. Any of her attempts at thawing the ice had been rebuffed. She sat around the campfire that evening with a look as long as the night.

“Hey Boss,” Bull said as he sat down beside her. “Drink?” He handed her his skin. Catlyn sniffed at it suspiciously, knowing her friend’s penchant for abnormally strong spirits. She took a tentative sip and spluttered, her lips on fire.

“Maker’s breath Bull, what is that?” she choked out through a burning throat.

“Not sure. Krem found it while digging through the ruins in Haven. Some Chantry piss. Hardly make a man of a boy,” he grunted disapprovingly. He took another sip and sighed. “I’ll admit, the cinnamon flavour is a nice touch though.”

Catlyn laughed and stared back at the fire. She really wasn’t in the mood for drinking anyways. They sat in silence for a while before Bull spoke.

“You know, he’s struggling with a few things, Boss. Not sure to what extent, but he’s having a hard time reconciling his feelings with his responsibilities.”

Catlyn looked over at him in surprise. “What are you on about Bull?” He gave her a knowing look that answered her question. “Oh. Well, I… How do you know this?” she finally gave in.

Bull tapped his nose. “Ben-Hassrath, right? I’m trained to know these things. You can tell he cares about you but he’s struggling with what to do about it.”

“How can you tell? He’s barely spoken to me since we left Skyhold. When he sees me coming, he moves in the opposite direction.” Catlyn’s lip trembled. “I don’t know what I was thinking, setting myself up to be hurt. How foolish. I should have known better,” she chastised herself.

“When you aren’t looking, he can’t keep his eyes off you. When Cassandra is around he’s more careful, but you can’t hide that kind of hunger very well Boss.” He took another sip from his skin. “He’s the Commander. A lot of responsibility lies on his shoulders. You’re the Inquisitor. Even more lies on yours. I think he’s just struggling to figure out how to make it all work without upsetting too many people along the way.”

Catlyn looked up at her giant friend and leaned into his shoulder. “You’re probably right Bull. Thank you,” she sighed.

“No problem Boss,” he patted her arm.

“How did you get to be so wise?” she wondered out loud. “No offence or anything, but usually you prance around the Herald’s Rest like a peacock, attracting a new partner every night. Your reputation hasn’t exactly included ‘commitment’ or ‘relationship’ beyond that with the Chargers.”

Bull inhaled deeply and slowly let out his breath. “Just because I’ve never been in a committed relationship doesn’t mean I don't know what's involved. Besides, people seem to always want to tell me shit.”

“Really?”

“I know, right?”

Catlyn laughed gently and considered that for a moment. “I think I get it. Underneath that tough exterior is something that screams safe and warm.”

“Hey, easy on the safe and warm shit Boss. That’s not going to help my reputation at all.”

Catlyn laughed. “Why haven’t you ever been in a relationship, Bull?” she asked curiously.

Bull sat quietly for a moment, staring ahead at the fire. Just then Dorian walked by and bid them both goodnight, retiring to his tent with a disgruntled comment about bedrolls. Catlyn waved goodnight in return. She looked up at Bull who had sat quietly during the exchange, though his eyes were fixated on the Tevinter’s tent with a heated gaze. Catlyn cocked her head to one side.

“Just haven’t found someone worth settling for, Boss,” he finally answered, his eyes never leaving the tent. A slow grin crept over her face and she covered her mouth to hide the smile. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who was fumbling along the path.

\---  
All around them, tents were burning. The hideout had clearly only recently been abandoned, save for a few remaining twisted Red Templars. Catlyn fished around through the fallen corpses, searching for any clues or useful supplies worth bringing back to Dagna.

Dorian made a retching sound. “Must you always loot the corpses, Inquisitor? Why not just stick to caches and chests?”

Catlyn shrugged. “That favourite ring of yours came off a bandit I slew in Crestwood. And don’t forget that new staff I had Haggrit craft you. It was made from-”

“Alright alright, I understand your point. Nonetheless, it’s still completely unsettling to see you handle carcasses like they were slabs of meat.”

“But Dorian, they are. And that’s what I grew up doing,” she replied slowly.

He shuddered in response. “Yes but you don’t need to remind us of that.”

Catlyn finished her sweep of the fallen as the Commander joined her, his face grim. “Samson must have ordered his Red Templars to sack his headquarters so we couldn’t.”

Catlyn nodded in reply. “Do you think there’s any chance we may still find Maddox or any clues as to where they may have fled to?”

“Only way to know for sure is to search the entire grounds,” he replied, his jaw set in a hard line.

The pair set off towards the staircase at the end of the courtyard and started to ascend. Just as they reached the top, a Red Templar behemoth came bursting out through the large doorway.

“Maker’s breath,” she heard the Commander hiss, unsheathing his sword and dropping into a battle stance. “Seeker, to the left! Bull, right flank!” he barked orders as the others raced to join them. Catlyn immediately cloaked herself and ran around to its back, feeling a slight buzz as Dorian cast a barrier around her. As she reached the behemoth’s backside, she dove both daggers into its calves, eliciting a sharp cry from the monster. It raised its arm in the air and swung its lyrium-crusted club down repeatedly at its assailants, causing the team to fall back. As Bull hollered a challenge, Cullen lunged toward it again and bashed his shield into its knee cap. The beast growled in anger and arced its arm along the ground, leaving the party only seconds to jump out of the way before a ring of lyrium shards burst forth from the ground knocking them back. Though the rest of her companions were cut off from it, Catlyn remained at its vulnerable backside. Just as Dorian unleashed his winter’s grasp spell on it, she dealt a deathblow to the behemoth, shattering it into tiny fragments. She raced over to where Cassandra was staggering to her feet and quickly passed her one of her healing draughts. She thanked her and downed the contents. Catlyn looked around and was grateful to see the others had escaped the lyrium shards unharmed.

“Is everyone alright?” she asked as they regrouped around her. Heads nodded in unison so she turned and pushed on further into the temple. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they quickly spotted a group of Red Templars off to the right. The party advanced, Catlyn cloaking herself once again and stalking the nearest Red Templar guard, pulling up behind him to sink her daggers in his back before he had the chance to turn around. At the last second he moved and she only landed one blow, cursing as her cover was blown. She rolled and lunged on his opposite side, crippling his left leg as Dorian’s fireball met him in the chest and sent his staggering back over the precipice into the burning level below. Catlyn wasted no time moving to her next target and catching them in a shadow strike. She hadn’t had the chance to cloak herself first though, and only sent the Red Templar staggering back momentarily before it regained its footing and came charging back at her. Realizing all too late that she was in effect cornered by flames and red lyrium shards, she dodged to its left, forcing it to knock her back with its shield instead of swiping at her with its blade. She grunted as the blow knocked her to her knees and scrambled quickly to get out of the way just as she felt Dorian’s barrier pop, leaving her fully exposed. Sensing her weakness, the Red Templar struck his sword down at the ground but she rolled away just in time, allowing her the chance to regain her footing and slash at its legs, cutting its lower half out from under it. The Red Templar fell to its knees giving Catlyn enough time to dash out of the way and leaving it to die.

She quickly scanned the room. Bull and Cullen were engaged in fighting some Red Templar knights while Dorian remained further back and up a level, casting barriers and flinging fireballs at unsuspecting victims. She sought out Cassandra who still looked a little weak even after taking the healing draught. She spotted her staggering away from a Red Templar guard she had just levelled. Unfortunately, a Red Templar horror also saw her and was busily readying itself to spew red lyrium crystals at her. Catlyn raced over to her friend just as the horror unleashed its spray and pushed her out of the way, bearing the full force of the attack. She was thrown back against a wall and suddenly everything went black.


	27. White Flag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen watches the Inquisitor fall and makes a decision.

Cullen watched in horror as the scene played out in front of him in slow motion.

He and Bull had just finished off the last of the Red Templars and he was searching for the Seeker who had taken a particularly nasty hit from the behemoth’s red lyrium shards. His eyes locked onto her as he watched her take down a guard. From the corner of his eye he could see a Red Templar horror drawing itself up to unleash an attack on the unsuspecting woman. As the crystals spewed forth, Cullen froze as he saw the Inquisitor leap out from the shadows and knock the Seeker out of the way only to get flung against a wall in her place, absorbing the full force of the attack. He shouted her name as he watched her limp body slump to the floor.

He raced down to the Red Templar and swung his sword down just as Dorian’s attack reached it. The dual blow sundered the Templar and it fell down with a hiss. The ringing in his ears from the red lyrium’s song was drowned out by the sound of his own blood rushing to his feet. He rushed over to the Inquisitor and knelt down beside her, gently cradling her head in his lap.

“No no, Catlyn, please, no,” he pleaded as he held her, fumbling for a pulse. He nearly shouted with relief when he found one, albeit very weak. He quickly inspected her exposed skin for any red lyrium crystals that may have lodged themselves and was relieved to find none. Her armour was beyond repair but he couldn’t care less in that moment.

“Is she…” the Seeker’s shaky voice came from over his shoulder. He shook his head in response and could hear the woman sigh audibly in relief. 

Dorian jogged over with Bull close on his heels. “Here Commander, give her this,” he handed him a small vial with a similar purple looking liquid as the draught the Inquisitor had brought him that night in Haven. He held up her head and softly parted her lips, tipping back the contents slowly in her mouth. Within seconds her eyes fluttered open and met his in alarm, then gently narrowed in warmth as her face registered his.

“Are you alright?” he asked tentatively, afraid her consciousness would be temporary.

She blinked her eyes a couple of times and smirked. “I’ve felt better,” she replied groggily, "though surprisingly not as bad as a night of drinking with Bull.”

Cullen laughed softly, relief flooding him. It took all his strength of will not to lean down and kiss her, pouring every ounce of his gratitude for her survival into an embrace. Though he had heeded the Seeker’s warning and had tried to distance himself from her, the pull on his heart was so strong it was a constant battle every day to keep from being close to her, to wanting to share in her laughter and bask in her warmth. When he saw her fall, it was as if his world had fallen down.

“Do you think you can stand?” he asked, not because he wanted to let her go, but because he would have gladly taken any excuse to bundle her up in his arms and carry her away from this voided place. She nodded her head and he helped her slowly to her feet. She felt surprisingly strong, which reminded him of the instantaneous effect the elixir had on him the first time he took it.

“Have you searched any further?” she asked. “Any sign of Maddox?”

“I think we’ve found him Boss,” Bull called out from the top of the stairs behind him.

Cullen followed her slowly through the large door heading to the last antechamber. There, sitting listlessly on the ground, was the Tranquil. He looked much the same as he had when Cullen had last seen him in Kirkwall, though he could tell by the grey pallor of his skin that he was barely alive.

“Hello, Inquisitor,” the Tranquil greeted her in his light, sing-sing voice that was the mark of all like him. 

“You know me?” she replied, surprised.

“It’s Maddox. Samson’s Tranquil. Something’s wrong, I’ll send for the healers-” Cullen started but was cut off by the dying man.

“That would be a waste, Knight-Captain Cullen.” Cullen winced at the use of his old title and fought back the memories that threatened to spill forth. “I drank my entire supply of blightcap essence. It won’t be long now.”

Cullen looked over at the Inquisitor whose grimace confirmed the Tranquil was beyond hope.

“We only wanted to ask you questions, Maddox,” she said, her voice gentle and full of sorrow.

“Yes. That is what I could not allow. I destroyed the camp with fire. We all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured Samson had time to escape.”

Cullen recoiled in disbelief. “You threw your lives away? For Samson?” He shook his head, “Why?” He couldn’t imagine the man inspiring such loyalty. Not after what he had become.

Maddox turned to look at him, his face calm and serene despite the pain he must have felt from the poison. “Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again.” The Tranquil’s eyes slowly closed and his head began to droop. “I… wanted to help…”

Cullen bowed his head and shook it solemnly. He couldn’t believe anyone feeling that Samson was worth giving their life for. Kirkwall suddenly came flashing back in his mind. If only he had stood up to Meredith sooner. Maddox, and maybe even Samson, could have been saved. He inhaled deeply and stood up, forcing the remorse down again.

“We should check the camp,” he said to the Inquisitor. “Maddox may have missed something.” She nodded in reply and made to turn but stopped.

“He deserves a proper burial, Cullen. We shouldn’t leave him like this," she spoke quietly.

Cullen nodded his head in agreement. “I will have some troops come and look after it.” She inclined her head slightly before beginning her search. He was once again reminded of her compassion and his heart swelled instinctively. 

As she rummaged around a desk, she stopped at a particular piece of paper. “Commander? I believe this is for you.” She handed him the letter, a curious look on her face. Cullen accepted it and skimmed its contents.

“Samson left a message… for me?” he wondered out loud.

“What does it say?” she asked, coming up beside him. He could feel her warmth even with the small gap between them. Her familiar scent filled his sense and settled him.

“ ‘Drink enough lyrium and its song reveals the truth. The Chantry used us. You’re fighting the wrong battle’,” he snorted. He had heard this sort of rant before, though no one had gone to such great lengths to seek retribution. “ ‘Corypheus chose me as his general and his vessel of power’ and other such nonsense. Does he think I’ll understand? What does he know?” Cullen sneered at the ramblings of the madman and crumpled the letter in his fist. Samson had written the letter as an appeal to him as what- a brother? A former Templar brother who shared the same values he did? He shook his head. He was nothing like Samson, he told himself. 

But what if he was? The doubt nagged at him. Samson’s dependency on lyrium had been his weakness and now downfall. Cullen never had that same thirst, even though now it was all he could think of when the tremors and nightmares became too much for him to handle. Still, there was a fine line between him and the other man and Cullen couldn’t help but wonder how things might have turned out had he fallen out of Meredith’s favour before it was too late to do something.

“Commander? Look at these. They’re licked clean.” The Inquisitor stood before him, her hands filled with empty vials. His mind snapped back to the present.

“That is an enormous quantity of lyrium. He should be dead,” he shook his head in disbelief.

“Nothing else back here. Let’s sweep the rest of the place before heading out,” she said.

Cullen and the others retraced their steps, Bull and Dorian heading down the left stairs, the Inquisitor down the right. She stopped at the bottom where a table was set up, papers and other implements strewn about it.

“These look like tools,” she said, searching delicately through the pieces. “This must have been Maddox’s room.”

Cullen joined her at the table. “The fire couldn’t destroy these entirely, whatever they are.” He examined the pieces, careful not to break anything. “Tranquil often design their own tools. Dagna should be able to make sense of them. If Maddox had used these to make Samson’s armour, she could use them to unmake it.” For the first time, Cullen felt a sense of triumph again. “We have him,” he whispered.

“Let’s send some soldiers back to pack them up carefully,” she suggested. “I saw some crates we can use back in the courtyard.” Cullen nodded in agreement and the pair turned and walked toward the main entrance, scanning their surrounding but seeing nothing else of use. The air was heavy with smoke and Cullen’s eyes burned. Once outside, the fresh air was a welcome respite from that inside the hideout.

Suddenly the Inquisitor’s legs buckled beneath her and she nearly fell down the steps had Cullen not been there to catch her. He braced her slumped frame against his own.

“Inquisitor! Are you alright?” his heart pounded as he watched her eyes roll around in her head. She leaned her forehead on his chest and clung to his pauldrons, curling her fingers around the fur.

“The smoke… fall from earlier… I think it’s just catching up on me. Sorry Commander, I’ll be fine.” She made to stand but her legs wouldn’t bear her weight and she reached back to him for support. In one swift move, Cullen gathered her up in his arms and carried her down the stairs and through the courtyard. He held her protectively to his chest and murmured reassuring words in her ear, a ball of warmth filling his chest as he felt her snuggle in closer to him. It was as if she were meant to fit perfectly with him and everything about the feeling was right. He had tried to put some distance between them, Maker knew he had tried, but he couldn’t ignore it any longer. He didn’t want to. She completed a part of his battered, damaged soul, and even though he nearly died every time he saw her near death herself, he was better off with her at his side.

The Seeker stood a few paces away from the bottom of the steps, waiting with Bull and Dorian who had left before they did. She met his eyes with a hard stare and he returned the look with a glare of his own. She may be right, but he would be damned if he were to let anyone else take his place in that moment. He walked past her and didn’t look back, carrying Catlyn all the way back to their mounts and placed her gently on his own. He swung up behind her and held her close, feeling her slender hands curl around his waist as she sat facing him, resting her head on his shoulder. He shrugged his horse into a walk and headed back home, never once letting her go.


	28. Pep Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian to the rescue.

Catlyn rolled over and sighed despondently. For four days now she had been cooped up in her room on Vivienne’s orders. When they finally made it back from Samson’s hideout, the First Enchanter was beside herself and spent a solid quarter of an hour lecturing her on the short-sightedness of playing the hero. She fussed over her and declared the prescription for returned health to be bed rest and hourly tonics to rid her system of the smoke and red lyrium effects to which she might have been exposed. The others had escaped the regime despite also having been exposed but Catlyn’s concussion had made her a prisoner in her own chambers. Grace spent hours with her braiding her hair and catching her up on all the gossip she missed while gone, but by the end of the second day even that didn’t do much to lift her spirits. Varric was off on some personal business and Bull and the Chargers were off on some mission for Leliana. Cole popped in and out but there was only so much of her own thoughts she could handle hearing. She encouraged him instead to go help some other persons in need using the trivia from Grace as diversions. Blackwall was making use of the Grey Warden treaties at Josephine’s request and Maker only knew what Solas was up to. Nose in the Fade or his paint brushes, no doubt. 

Dorian stopped by but even he had made himself scarce since their return. “Investigating,” he had said, though he refused to say what. She had it on good authority that he had made time for at least two chess matches with the Commander, which made her feel very put out. Wasn’t she his best friend, after all? Although she could hardly blame him for wanting to spend time staring at those amber-coloured eyes. During the many hours she spent alone in her room, when she wasn’t flipping through correspondence Josephine had snuck in to her (Vivienne was adamant there was to be no work), she was dreaming of those eyes. 

Since sacking Samson’s abandoned hideout, Cullen had warmed to her again, though it was still reserved at best. He no longer went out of his way to avoid her, but he didn’t linger either. His actions confused her: on the one hand, there was no mistaking the heat in his eyes when he gazed at her; but on the other, he remained professional and polite as one would expect from an advisor. The flirting hadn’t returned since the practice session that afternoon and Catlyn began to reluctantly accept that he may not feel the same way about her that she did about him.

Catlyn sighed and buried her face in her hands. She was beginning to sense what her mother must have felt all those years ago: caring for someone you could never have felt like a dull ache deep in your stomach. She saw the toll that pain could take on a person and thought perhaps the Commander’s distance wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Despite that, the idea of being mere friends didn’t quench her thirst the way she wanted.

She rolled out of bed and decided she had enough of being treated like an invalid. Surely Viv’s prescription was a bit severe. She searched her room for her knee-high buckskin boots and leggings and pulled on a lambswool tunic she grudgingly had let Vivienne order for her from her tailor in Val Royeaux. She admitted that the quality and fit were superb, though she would have preferred a few less adornments. Vivienne had insisted that appearances were essential and even when dressed casually she must appear imposing, nearly regal. She was the Inquisitor, after all.

Catlyn set off for the library hoping to catch Dorian. As she came up the staircase, she didn’t see him in his usual window nook and he was nowhere to be found on that level. She sighed and headed out the door along the balcony and knocked on his chamber door. Still nothing. Disgruntled, she headed back down and through the rotunda. She was tempted to pop in on the Commander but judging by the time of day, he was likely down inspecting the latest recruits in the practice yard. She stopped and called out to Solas who was busy working on his latest work high up on the scaffolding.

“Good day, Solas. Have you seen Dorian around?”

He paused mid-stroke to look down at her. “Good day, Inquisitor. I have not,” he replied and returned to his painting.

Catlyn pursed her lips. Always so eloquent, she thought to herself. “Thanks all the same. It’s looking good, Solas. You certainly have an eye for colour,” she gestured to the canvas. He returned her compliment with a genuine, if reserved, smile and continued working.

Catlyn meandered back out into the great hall and nearly collided with Grace who came scurrying around the corner.

“Oh! I’m so sorry Inquisitor!” Despite using her name in private company, the little girl was couth enough to use her title when in a more public setting.

“It’s alright Grace,” she replied, brushing the two of them off. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Grace rolled her eyes theatrically. “Cook’s in a right tizzy. A massive wheel of cheese has gone missing. I’m trying to figure out where it might have gone off to.”

Catlyn smiled lopsidedly at her. “Why don’t you go see Cole? I bet he could shed some light for you.”

Grace looked at her quizzically. “Alright, if you say so. Though I never see him eat. Ever.”

Catlyn laughed, “Just trust me.”

The little girl nodded her head and smiled in thanks before dashing off again. Just as she was almost out the main door, Catlyn called out to her. 

“Grace! Have you seen Dorian?”

“Last I saw he was headed to the armoury!” she called back before disappearing into the sunshine. Catlyn frowned. What would he need at the armoury? All of their fittings came from Haggrit and Dagna. Faced with precious few options, Catlyn set out to look for him.

As she made her way over to the armoury, she stopped short as she reached the door. She could hear Dorian’s raised voice and he didn’t sound at all amused. She cloaked herself, thankful she had tucked a few supplies into her tunic, and pressed her ear against the door.

“- it’s none of your business, Seeker,” came Dorian’s voice from within.

“Anything that affects the success of the Inquisition is my business. I did not risk everything the Divine worked for to have it ruined by an indulgent distraction. There is enough at stake as it is,” Cassandra’s harsh voice replied.

“How is this a risk?”

“The Commander has other concerns. He does not heed his focus taken away by something that could ultimately threaten our cause.”

“Threaten your cause? You can’t be serious,” he scoffed. “The man is the essence of honour and discipline. He would never jeopardize what we are all working for.”

“I do not expect you to understand the finer points of war, Lord Pavus, having spent most of your life holed up in some library with your nose in magical tomes. Their commitment should be to the Inquisition’s success alone,” Cassandra replied, her tone leaving no misinterpretation as to her true feelings on the issue. “Commander Cullen has physical challenges that provide ample distraction. The Inquisitor, despite her many successes and remarkable battle and leadership acumen, is inexperienced. Her focus should remain on the Inquisition until our success is guaranteed.”

“Oh come now, Seeker, you can’t be completely hardened by your sense of duty that you see no room for personal pursuits,” he argued. “Despite your questionable taste in literature, I know you are a hopeless romantic.”

“How can anyone think of romance when they should be focussed on defeating the enemy?” she snapped. “We need them to devote their full attention to making sure we make the right decisions,” Cassandra reiterated, her voice pitched.

“What better way to remind them of what is good and what is worth fighting for than to be inspired by something worth living for? Have you ever considered that keeping them apart could do more harm than good?” There was a pause and Catlyn could almost hear Cassandra crossing her arms in anger. She held her breath and pressed her ear closer to the door, willing herself to hear through the wooden slab.

“They can help each other, Seeker,” Dorian continued. “It’s more distracting trying to ignore their feelings rather than work together to figure them out. The Commander struggles enough with a sense of unworthiness to need anyone cast into doubt his judgment. You need to have faith that they will always make the decisions that are in the best interests of the Inquisition. If it happens to mean they make some that are in their own self-interest, who are you to interfere?” Dorian’s voice was soft, almost supplicant. Catlyn wanted nothing more than to burst through the door and throw her arms around her friend.

“What the Commander is currently experiencing can have dramatic side effects unlike anything we have ever seen. He may never be able to give her what she needs and she may not be able to help him though this. I don’t want to see either of them hurt.” Cassandra’s voice was gentler, almost resigned. Catlyn backed away from the door, having heard enough. She knew Cullen was struggling with lyrium withdrawal and knew the side effects could be lethal. It would take every ounce of willpower and strength to see him through that. If she was a distraction, it could significantly hinder his ability to overcome the effects. If he truly cared for her the way she believed her might, how would he survive the stress of putting her at risk every time she left Skyhold? Worse, if she died, how would he survive that? If he remained uncommitted, perhaps he would have a better chance of focussing on overcoming the addiction. Suddenly all her feelings seemed entirely selfish. She wasn’t thinking about the impact a relationship of any kind might have on anyone else. Cassandra was right: she was inexperienced. Even she might be overstating her ability to pursue her feelings with the Commander and remain focussed on what she as a leader should be doing to ensure the success of the Inquisition.

“Don’t think for a second that I don’t know you’re there, my dear.”

Catlyn gasped and spun around, the vestiges of her cloaking unravelling. Hey eyes met the disapproving glare of the First Enchanter. She groaned inwardly, knowing full well she was in for another exasperating lecture.

“Vivienne, what a pleasant surprise meeting you here. I was just getting some fresh air. I thought it might do me some good,” she tried to convince the woman.

Vivienne remained unconvinced, her hands firmly planted on her hips. “If you need air, your balcony would suffice. Red lyrium exposure is no laughing matter my dear. I am disappointed you did not heed my counsel more closely.”

“Sorry ma’am,” Catlyn found herself mumbling. She was starting to understand why Bull always reacted to her in such an obsequious manner. Vivienne had a naturally imposing and assertive demeanour that it was difficult to do anything but comply with her requests. She was clearly a master player in the Game and had it not been for her more humble beginnings and pragmatic approach to magic, Catlyn wouldn’t have allowed her to remain. She walked a fine line between embracing the snobbery and haughtiness perfected by nobility, and confidence, and sometimes it set Catlyn on edge.

The door to the armoury swung open and Dorian stepped out looking nervously at Catlyn. 

“Darling! What are you doing out of bed?” he asked, clearly surprised to see her out and about.

“I was just reminding the Inquisitor that she was to remain in bed for at least another day,” Vivienne announced, stepping over to Catlyn with a motion that indicated she was to accompany her back to her chambers.

“Allow me, Madam de Fer. I was on my way back to the library anyway and I am overdue for a visit,” Dorian politely stepped in and wrapped his arm around Catlyn, sweeping her away.

“No detours, Lord Pavus,” Vivienne instructed imperiously as she reluctantly stepped aside. “And do not linger long. The Inquisitor needs rest,” she added, emphasizing her last point.

“You have my word, my lady. She is in good hands,” he replied as he marched her through the courtyard and toward the keep, keeping an arm firmly planted around her back.

“I’m not an invalid,” Catlyn pouted. “I can make it back to my room unassisted.” She was suddenly resentful of her friend’s “investigating” and wondered just how much he knew and what else he might be keeping from her.

“You were supposed to be in bed, Inquisitor,” he accused her in a hushed whisper. “How long were you eavesdropping behind that door?”

“Long enough,” Catlyn muttered.

Dorian made an unflattering noise in response and remained mute the rest of the way to her chambers. Finally at the top of the stairs he broke the silence. “Of course the grandest apartment couldn’t be on the main floor,” he complained.

“I didn’t ask you to come up,” she replied bitterly, shrugging off his arm and taking a seat in front of the fireplace.

Dorian’s expression was pained. “I need to know what you heard, Catlyn. Don’t be petulant.”

Catlyn stared wordlessly into the fire. What could she say? That she heard Cassandra all but forbid her having any kind of relationship? That she realized now how selfish she was being? That she would do anything to help Cullen and if it meant keeping her feelings at bay, she would do so no matter the cost to her? Instead she sighed and simply replied, “We are in the middle of a war, Dorian. The sky threatens to tear asunder again and there is an angry magister darkspawn who wishes me dead. Red Templar mutants threaten all of Thedas while the Mage-Templar War rages on. Yet here I am, running around like some lovesick puppy when I should be focussed on putting an end to all of this. What’s worse, the Commander is going through a dangerous transformation and should be focussed on maintaining his health instead of worrying about how to deal with my feelings. I of all people should know how risky his emotional and physical state can be at this time. For the good of everyone involved, I need to let this go.”

Dorian let out a strangled groan and ran his fingers roughly through his hair. “That is precisely what you should not be doing!” he hissed, pacing in front of her. “Wars are won on strategy and numbers, yes, but they are also won on strength and confidence. Where do you think the latter come from, may I ask?”

“Cullen is the strongest man I know- well, next to Bull, that is,” she added truthfully. “He is one of the greatest strategists and when he makes decisions and commands his troops there isn’t a person alive who would say he lacks confidence. I don’t know how I factor into that at all. He’s the one who has become that way.”

“But you see, this is where you are wrong!” he exclaimed fervently, stopping in front of her. “You speak of the Commander but what of the man behind him? His strength of character has allowed him to rebuild himself into the man he is today but it has come at a cost. He has seen and felt things most normal people could never dream of, yet somehow he managed to see the good in life. It has still left him doubtful of his own self-worth. No matter how difficult, he makes all the right decisions, but still the doubt eats away at him like a festering wound.”

Catlyn stared at him in confusion. She wasn’t sure how her feelings for him could do anything to help. “You heard Cassandra. She thinks it’s a mistake to act on our impulse. Leliana seems to think so too. If I stay away, I will be helping him to make the right decision.”

Dorian shook his head in frustration. “But it’s a bad decision! Do you think he’s had people lining up at his door to thank him for all he has done? He upheld his oath as a Templar to save the remaining mages in Kinloch Hold. How was he repaid? He saw the woman he loved be mutilated in front of his eyes and was shipped off to Greenfell to rot. Had it not been for the exceptional wisdom of the revered mother who cared for him, his mind would have turned into slime. He stood up to the fanatical Meredith and saved Kirkwall’s circle and the Templars who swore to protect it. What happened? He was handed an extraordinary mess and with no support, was asked to rebuild. You’re most welcome, Commander,” Dorian drawled sarcastically. “He has spent the better part of his life cleaning up other people’s messes and has received practically nothing in return. Now he has the chance to be cared for by someone who can see past all his scars and the ghosts that torment him. Someone who will tell him that he’s a good man, not just a good commander. The kind of confidence gained through that simple recognition is more powerful than any focus or devotion he could give the Inquisition on his own.”

Catlyn sat frozen as she listened to her friend. It was a moment before she spoke. “I don’t understand then why Cassandra is so concerned,” she said, looking dubiously at her friend. 

Dorian snorted. “Because our dear Seeker is bound by rules and conformity. She is stubborn to a fault and can’t admit that she may have made a mistake. She is so angry at the world that she has trouble accepting that not everyone needs to be fuelled by a sense of duty to accomplish anything of worth.”

“But what if she’s right?” Catlyn hesitated. “What if it’s too distracting for me? I barely know what I’m doing half the time. Maybe I should be more disciplined. What if I make the wrong decision and cost the Inquisition everything because I put my own selfish desires first?”

Dorian knelt down in front of her and clasped her hands, his eyes pleading. “How long have you cared for the Commander? Truly, when did it start? It was back in Haven, wasn’t it?” Catlyn dropped her gaze, acknowledging the truth in her friend’s question. “Since then you have made countless decisions and risked your life for the advancement of the Inquisition. None of where we are today could be without you. Caring for the Commander along the way has never once undermined your ability to lead. If anything, it has enhanced it. You’re brighter, faster, and stronger when you are around him. Any fool can see that. The others just need time to accept that but you are the bloody Inquisitor for Andraste’s sake! You are running this show and you should decide who you get to love and when. You sacrifice yourself every day and frankly may not get a tomorrow. Make sure every moment counts, for life is too beautiful to waste it pining for a love you deny yourself.”

Catlyn’s eyes welled up with tears. She wanted so desperately to believe what her friend was saying but she was so unsure of herself.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same?” she whispered, her voice quavering. “What if he thinks it’s better if we listen to Cassandra? Or what if you’re reading too much into the flirting and-”

Dorian cut her off by cupping her face firmly in his hands. “I am never wrong about these things, stubborn girl. The man cares hopelessly for you. It doesn’t take a few chess matches to know that, though it certainly helps,” he smirked. “Stop wasting time and show him he’s worth of every ounce of you and you of him.”

Catlyn fought back a sob and threw her arms around her friend snuggling into his neck and inhaling deeply. Dorian always smelt of whiskey and musk- and comfort and safety. “Why are you doing this?” she murmured against his neck.

“Because I can’t sit back and watch my closest friends throw away something as beautiful and sacred as this. And because if I catch either of you pining away after the other any longer, I may vomit.”

Catlyn burst out laughing, a tear escaping her steely resolve as she sniffed loudly in his ear. “What would I do without you?”

“You would have infinitely lesser taste and your life you would be dull and void for certain,” he declared. “Your library would also be half the size and your cellar double,” he added drily. Catlyn giggled in response. He drew away from her and stared her in the eyes. “Now go get your man. Don’t worry about Madam de Fer, I have her covered. That insufferable woman has you watched every second but she is so easily distracted by the mere mention of circle reform that I will have her caught up in a diatribe so overwhelming that she won’t pay you any notice. Now go wash up first though, you look dreadful,” he contorted his face to emphasize his point.

Catlyn shot him an injured look before getting up to check her reflection in a mirror. He was right, of course; she did look a mess. She was suddenly too impatient to wait for Grace to come and help her straighten out her hair. She never liked wasting time before. If she were truly going to take action, she had better go now before her resolve wavered and confidence disappeared.


	29. What Are You Waiting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally...... the battlements scene :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I <3 Ellie Goulding.

Cullen stood leaning over his desk reading the recent reports coming out of the Western Approach. Scouts reported Venatori activity and Cullen cursed at how widespread they seemed to be. Leliana was expecting a more detailed report that supposedly contained precise sightings and Cullen was waiting impatiently for a copy. She had promised to have it delivered as soon as it came in.

Cullen was startled as his door burst open and the Inquisitor stormed in looking slightly disheveled. It was unlike her not to knock and he was immediately concerned. For all her haste in barging in, she suddenly pulled up short of his desk, a hesitant look on her face.

“Inquisitor, is everything alright?” he looked at her nervously. He hadn’t seen her since their return from Samson’s hideout. He had wanted to go up and see how she was doing for himself but at every opportunity he seemed to be foiled by the First Enchanter’s strict orders or Cassandra’s disapproving glare. As time passed, his confidence wavered and the Seeker’s warning rang louder in his mind. He didn’t want to be responsible for putting the Inquisition nor its leader at risk. The more time he spent away from her, the more the demons that haunted him at night picked apart any hope he may have had that she might care for him. Doubt nagged at him like a fisherman’s wife, its voice raised like a harpy: you’re not worthy, it screamed.

The Inquisitor stared back at him and hesitated a moment before blurting out, “I thought we could talk. Alone.”

“Alone? I mean, of course,” he stammered, his heart pounding in his chest. “Shall we walk the battlements?” he suggested, gesturing towards the door. She nodded mutely in reply, dropping her head and threading her fingers nervously together as he held the door open for her. Perhaps she shared the Seeker’s views and had come to let him down gently.

They walked through the next tower towards a section less frequently patrolled by soldiers. Cullen knew the circuits well and no one was set to pass through for another quarter hour. They walked side by side for a moment before Cullen couldn’t handle the silence any longer. “It’s a nice day,” he mumbled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

“What?” she replied, turning to him with a confused look on her face. 

Smooth, Rutherford, he thought to himself. “It’s…” he started to repeat but thought twice and steeled himself, cutting to the chase. “There was something you wished to discuss?”

The Inquisitor dropped her gaze once more before raising her eyes to meet his. “I wanted to talk about us,” she replied.

“Us?” he stammered. “Why would you, what is there to- I mean, I’m not sure what you mean, Inquisitor.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to another. Here it comes, he thought miserably to himself. Come to make it clear that it was never meant to be. Having the Seeker deny him the opportunity was one thing, but having the Inquisitor do the same snuffed out any glimmer of hope he may have harboured.

“Cullen please,” she pleaded, her voice soft and low. He was surprised at the vulnerability he saw on her. “I know there are bigger things that concern us all. The Venatori, Corypheus, demons plaguing Thedas. I get that. And I know I may lack experience and some people may doubt my ability to uphold my responsibilities,” she continued, her voice wavering slightly. “Perhaps more disciplined people could keep their feelings at bay, but I’ve always struggled with that. I’ve practiced long and hard and have gotten better, but I’m not so sure I really want to ignore them in this case,” she rambled on, her fingers itching nervously at her palms.

“What are you saying, exactly?” he asked her gently, his eyebrow raised questioningly. He suddenly got the sense that there might be some hope yet.

The Inquisitor bit her lip and took a deep breath. “I care for you, Cullen. I think you feel the same. What if we didn’t ignore these feelings, despite what the others might say?”

Cullen’s mind raced so quickly he could barely keep up. She cared for him. Four simple, little words that held such a tremendous power over him that he felt weightless as a result. The Seeker’s disapproving glare flashed in his mind once more and he looked away, taking a few steps past her as he prepared a reply.

“I can’t say I haven’t wondered about what I would say to you in this sort of situation,” he replied, unsure what to say next. 

“What’s stopping you?” she urged.

He turned back to her face, her pleading eyes piercing his heart like arrows. “You’re the Inquisitor,” he saw her flinch slightly at his words and for a second suspected that he hadn’t been the only one to receive unsolicited advice from the Seeker. “We’re at war. You-” he stopped, thinking twice about admitting his true concerns. That he didn’t deserve her affection. That he was a broken man with many pieces missing and he wasn’t sure if he could be repaired. That he was scared to lose her and perhaps the last part of him that felt whole. “I didn’t think it was possible,” he finished simply.

“And yet I’m still here,” she replied hopefully, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. How he longed to press his lips against that mouth and feel her soft, full lips slide against his. He had dreamt for months about what she would feel like, taste like, and in that moment with the sun shining down on her, he felt every last bit of resolve melt away as he moved slowly toward her. To the Void with Cassandra and Leliana and anyone else who told him this was wrong. Every part of him screamed that it was right. 

For a second he let Dorian’s words rise above the others. _“You have suffered, but it doesn’t mean you aren’t deserving. You needn’t feel like you aren’t worthy of love simply because you have been forced to be a part of so much pain.” _As he stood in front of the Inquisitor, her honey-grass smell filling his sense with a comforting warmth, he allowed himself to savour the moment.__

“So you are,” he finally replied, moving in so that he could tenderly reach up and cup her face with his hand. “It seems too much to ask. But I want to,” he finished, leaning in every so slowly, closely…

“Commander,” a messenger walked distractedly up to them, looking down at the report he was carrying. Cullen heard the Inquisitor gasp and he immediately pulled away. Frustration burned through his veins as the tender moment was broken. “You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report.” It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to send the man flying over the side of the battlements. 

“What?” he growled and the man finally looked up from the papers he was carrying. He met Cullen’s gaze confusedly, sincerely seeming as if he had no idea what he had just interrupted. How in the Maker had he even known to look for him there?

“Sister Leliana’s report. You wanted it delivered ‘without delay’.” The messenger continued to stare back at him with an innocent look on his face. Cullen glared at him with such venom; the messenger finally realized that something was amiss. He glanced back at the Inquisitor, who appeared to want to melt away into oblivion. If they had any hope of keeping their relationship a secret, surely there was none now.

“Or… to your office… right.” The messenger stumbled backwards for a few steps before turning and fleeing back from where he came. 

Cullen inhaled deeply and clenched his fists at his side. He had a choice. There was no mistaking that the messenger had suspected what was taking place and was going to report back to Leliana immediately. Cullen still had the chance to stop things from going any further, but who would that really serve? The Inquisition? The Seeker? Once again in his life he was faced with the choice to sacrifice what he wanted for what others thought was right. He had refused to let down the guards in Kinloch Hold and watched Isidora murdered before his eyes. He stood by and watched Meredith sacrifice hundreds of lives for her zealous beliefs before he finally stood up to her. He refused to back down again now. He didn’t agree with either of the women’s positions on the matter. Maker have mercy on him, for once he was going to follow his heart before it suffered any more.

He turned back to the Inquisitor who looked at him in a resigned manner, pain clear in her deep brown eyes. “Cullen, if you-” she began before he cut her off. He closed his eyes and pulled her to him, pressing his lips against hers in a passionate embrace that sent little stars dancing in front of his eyes. For a second the entire world ceased to exist and there was only the two of them locked in a kiss that set his entire body aflame. His hand reached up to cradle the base of her head as his other rested on her lower back, pulling her closer to him as if he meant to join the two of them in a single body. To his excitement she returned the kiss as fervently as he gave it, moaning softly in his mouth and sending a chill down his spine. She tasted of the same honey of which she smelled, and his tongue gingerly explored her lips as they remained locked in that position for what felt like an eternity. Finally they broke apart, each desperate for air as they remained inches from each other, their breaths ragged and panting. 

“I’m sorry, that was, um…. really nice,” he stammered awkwardly. For a moment he panicked that he had been too forward, though the way she returned his kiss certainly had him believe otherwise.

“That, was what I wanted,” she purred. 

“Oh. Good,” he chuckled, before leaning in once more to reclaim her mouth with his. He wasn’t sure how long they stood locked in the embrace but when they finally pulled apart once more, he felt joy and vigour like he hadn’t in years. To know she wanted him as badly as he wanted- needed- her, filled him with relief and happiness that banished the dark thoughts that plagued him. He knew they would have accounts to pay with the others but in that moment, he didn’t care.

They remained locked in a heated gaze for another moment longer before he finally shook himself back to reality. “We should… probably get back,” he said reluctantly, trying his best to sound convincing. She nodded her head quickly, a slight hesitancy crossing her face. “Not that I want to leave you. I never want to leave you, I hope you know that,” he whispered. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile that made the light dance in her eyes like flickering stars. Make she was beautiful.

He slowly turned away towards the door, running his hand down her arm and shyly reaching for her hand as he led her back toward his office. They walked hand in hand, their fingers tightly intertwined. As they reached his office and stepped in, she pulled him to a stop just inside the door.

“Cullen, I know you value the opinion of the others and whether you care to admit it or not, their concerns weigh on your mind. I won’t fight your battle for you, but please know that whatever doubts you may have, I will be there to make sure they don’t take over. Promise me you will talk to me if ever your confidence falters,” she pleaded. Again he was overwhelmed with the sincerity in her voice and the care she felt for him. It was obvious that she had been giving this some serious thought as well, and that somehow reassured him. If she was willing to take the risk, then so should he.

“I promise, Inquisitor,” he replied, gently stoking her cheek with his thumb.

“Catlyn,” she groaned. “Don’t you dare call me Inquisitor. Not when we’re alone anyways.”

“Would you prefer ‘Herald’?” he mused.

“You’re incorrigible!” she playfully slapped his arm away and he laughed as he pulled her back in and leaned his face towards hers, gently brushing her nose with his.

“I will call you whatever it is you please,” he replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Catlyn,” she answered firmly.

“Catlyn,” he replied, gazing down at her. She smiled in satisfaction and raised up to steal one last kiss before sauntering back out the door toward the keep, looking back over her shoulder happily as she closed it. Cullen remained where he was and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly. He knew there would be consequences, but the way he felt in that moment was worth a thousand lectures and disapproving glares.


	30. Vanquish Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn is surprised by Leliana's reaction to her relationship with the Commander.  
> She's equally surprised at Dorian's reaction to the recent events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else hate the Western Approach as much as I did? So. Much. Sand. Ugh.

Catlyn had to suppress the urge to skip back to the keep. Her heart still raced and her lips tingled where they had been pleasantly ravaged by the Commander. Her Commander. Cullen. Her heart skipped a beat once more.

As she passed through the rotunda, she hesitated. She knew that the messenger was going to run to Leliana and had probably already done so. She promised Cullen she wouldn’t fight that battle for him, but Leliana had doubts about her own ability to handle this as well. She needed to stand up for herself, after all.

She turned on her heels and ascended the stairs, rounding the corner in the library and continuing up to the rookery. As she crested the top, sure enough she saw the messenger whispering urgently to the spymaster, his face blanching as he turned to see the Inquisitor approaching. Catlyn shot him the iciest glare she could. Really, had people no sense of decency that they had to go running off to the head of intelligence with every little morsel of gossip? Wasn’t there some kind of immunity for the Herald of bloody Andraste?

“Your- Your Worship,” he stammered, bowing quickly and running back down the stairs. Catlyn fixed her gaze on the spymaster, sizing her up. She and the woman were always friendly and Catlyn truly admired the ruthlessness with which Leliana handled her affairs. Still, she got the sense that the spymaster harboured suspicions about her, like Catlyn might suddenly spread horns and wings and breathe fire upon the Inquisition. She supposed a lot had to do with her lack of desire to share her personal history. Josephine often asked her to be patient with Leliana, explaining that knowledge was her power. Her lack of it regarding her leader’s background had understandably left her feeling somewhat vulnerable. Still, Catlyn objected to her assuming she couldn’t handle a relationship and her responsibilities simultaneously. Maker knew she had her own insecurities about the notion but she didn’t need her advisors adding fuel to the fire.

“Busy at work I see,” she greeted Leliana, coming around the desk to stand beside her. Leliana smiled pleasantly, giving nothing away.

“My work never sleeps,” Leliana replied.

“Your birds have impeccable stamina and range,” she smirked. Catlyn took a deep breath and sighed. She really didn’t want to play games or resort to ultimatums. She just wanted to know that her decision was made and as her leader, she needed her to accept that.

“Leliana, I value your opinion. I hope you know that. You have a wealth of knowledge and experience I could never hope to match. The Inquisition is lucky to have you. I am truly lucky to have you,” she added with sincerity.

“You’re too kind, Inquisitor,” she murmured in reply, inclining her head in recognition of the praise.

“Although sometimes we don’t see eye to eye, I believe our common goals trump any resentment we may feel towards the other,” Catlyn continued. “Which is why, on the matter of the Commander and I, I wanted you to know that while I understand your concern, I respectfully choose to ignore it.” Catlyn drummed the inside of her palm nervously, as Leliana scrutinized her from where she stood. She had never come out before and actually said she wasn’t going to listen to her advisors’ counsel. 

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Inquisitor,” Leliana replied, her face unreadable. Damn it to the Void, Catlyn thought. If this was her way of trying to say she would keep what she knew a secret, she wished she didn’t have to play dumb. It wasn’t so much the secrecy that was important to her, but the fact that she needed the woman to accept it and believe in her ability to carry out her duties regardless, or at least keep her own apprehensions in line. The support of her advisors really meant a great deal to Catlyn.

“I’m sure you do, Leliana, and while I very much appreciate your discretion, I need us to be frank for a moment,” she replied, fidgeting slightly. “I need you to accept that I understand the risks but that I think there are enough safeguards in place to prevent any poor decisions from happening. Between you, Cassandra, Josephine and all my companions, I know I will keep my priorities straight. I’ve done a pretty good job so far,” she argued. “This won’t get in the way. I just wanted you to hear it from me directly. I know you still harbour some doubts that might affect your ability to have faith in me. Believe me when I say I only withhold information to protect others from myself or people who may want to get at me through them. You’ve stood by me while I’ve made far more difficult decisions. I hope you will continue to stand by me now.” She finished her appeal, silently proud at her eloquence. More often than not she got so nervous and worked up, she stumbled over her words or rambled on like a senile old woman.

Leliana stood appraising her, her face a mask of apathy. Finally after what felt like an eternal silence, she spoke.

“I once loved someone so dearly it nearly cost me my life and put someone else I loved at risk,” she spoke, her eyes dark and distant. “I know firsthand what love can do, how it can blind a person. I didn’t think, given everything we face, that it would be wise for either of you to take that same risk.”

Catlyn stood staring back at her, suddenly doubting her decision once more. If Leliana lacked the resolve it took to make the right decision, how could she ever hope to do better? She lacked half the discipline and ruthlessness the spymaster did. She remained speechless but luckily Leliana continued.

“When faced with the opportunity to confront my treacherous lover, I nearly faltered once more. But the resolve of my companions helped keep me steadfast and I struck her down. I’ve since realized that a person’s strength doesn’t necessarily rest with them alone: that their friends and advisors guide them as well. Though I do not doubt your ability to see clearly and make the tough decisions that need to be made on your own, I know that you are surrounded by many who will help you- and the Commander- through this.”

Catlyn was both genuinely shocked and touched by the woman’s confidence. She wasn’t sure what she expected when she came up to see her. Perhaps more lectures like she expected from Cassandra. Acceptance and even support were not among her most likely anticipated outcomes.

“Thank you, Leliana,” she replied, relieved. “You have no idea how much your support means to me.”

Leliana smiled. “I have an idea,” she mused before her smile took on a decidedly more girlish air. “Besides, I think the pair of you would look charming together. Josephine will of course be frustrated beyond belief, as it will curtail her plans to market you as a match for political purposes. But I have no doubt she will think of a way to turn this to her advantage.”

“What!” Catlyn exclaimed, shocked that Josephine would see her that way. She made a mental note to speak with her friend next. “Does she really think she can peddle me around like some silly negotiation tool?”

“Of course not, Inquisitor,” Leliana giggled, clearly amused by her reaction. “She would never follow through. She knows it’s not her place to betroth you. However, others are not aware of your intentions and see Josephine as an agent of sorts. It’s all about positioning.”

“Maker’s breath,” Catlyn groaned, running her face with her hands. “I’m not cut out for these games, Leliana. You know how much I despise them.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll be fine,” she smiled reassuringly. Resigned to her situation, Catlyn smiled thankfully at the woman and bid her goodbye, heading back to her quarters before Vivienne realized she had escaped.

\---  
It was another two days before Catlyn finally convinced Vivienne that she was healthy enough to travel. She was anxious to get to the Western Approach, not because she had any desire to visit the wastelands to the west but because they were to meet Hawke and Stroud there. The pair had followed the trail of the Grey Wardens to an old abandoned ruin of some kind and suspected the lead could be fruitful.

Catlyn once again assembled her favourite crew: Dorian, Cassandra, and Bull. Armed with supplies and long lists of requested items from Dagna, Helisma, and Sera (though Catlyn swore half of Sera’s list consisted of crude drawings and doodles), the party gathered by the stables to prepare for their journey. Catlyn was speaking quietly with Blackwall about his recent voyage to utilize the Grey Warden treaties when Cullen came striding up to them.

“Early start I see,” he said, smiling as he approached. They hadn’t had much opportunity to see other since their kiss on the battlements and Catlyn’s heart twisted slightly at the thought of leaving him for so long.

“It’s a long journey ahead. I don’t want Hawke and Stroud to think we abandoned them,” she replied, smiling apologetically in return. Cullen nodded in understanding.

“I had best be off before breakfast gets cold- or Sera eats it all,” Blackwall rumbled. “I’ll leave you to it then. Good luck, Inquisitor,” he inclined his head in farewell and walked off towards the keep, leaving the pair alone.

“How long are you expecting to be gone?” Cullen asked, staring at her with hungry eyes. Catlyn’s insides melted under his gaze. She longed for a more secluded place to say goodbye but Skyhold was already bustling with the new day.

“I expect several weeks depending on our progress and the weather,” she replied, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other. “We may stop off in Emprise du Lion on our way back. Blackwall suspects there may be some Grey Warden artifacts located in an old outpost of theirs. We’ve also received some troubling reports of darkspawn activity that I would like to investigate.”

Cullen nodded mutely and Catlyn could see in his eyes the inner conflict he fought. After a moment he said, “You’ll be sure to send back reports along the way so we can monitor your progress.” His resolve was strong but Catlyn could see the effort it took him to control his desire to hold her close and protect her. 

“Of course,” she reached out slightly to take his hand in hers. She squeezed it in reassurance, the only subtle way she could think to hold him, touch him, and reassure him that everything would be ok. It was as much for her as it was for him.

“I know,” he answered softly, returning the squeeze. They held their gaze a moment longer, letting the unspoken words pass between them. Finally he nodded once more in goodbye and stepped back, letting her mount her horse. As she looked back down at him, he saluted in the way of the Inquisition and she replied in turn before spurring on her mount and getting the others underway. She looked ahead just in time to catch Cassandra turning to look away from Cullen, a curious look on her face. She wondered if she had heard anything yet.

A few steps along and already Catlyn regretted her goodbye. On a whim, she cloaked herself, sliding effortlessly from the horse while the others continued on completely unaware of her absence. She ran back to Cullen who had remained rooted in his spot, watching the party leave. She threw herself at him and he cried out in shock as his ghostly assailant kissed him fervently. It took him a moment to realize what was happening and he relaxed into the embrace, returning the passion wholeheartedly. Satisfied she was leaving a lasting impression, she broke away and whispered, “I’ll miss you,” before running off to catch up with her horse who had continued with the others out the gate. She caught a few servants and the dwarven merchant staring strangely at the bizarre actions of the Commander. She giggled to herself as she mounted her horse and uncloaked, her companions never once acknowledging her brief absence.

\---  
“No Livius, you’re the tool,” Dorian sneered at the Venatori before them.

Livius glared at him in response. “As for me, while the Elder One rules from the Golden City, we, the Venatori, will be his god-kings here in the world.”

“Release the Wardens from the binding and surrender. I won’t ask twice,” Catlyn threatened. Her anger pulsed through her veins like a war drum and the hold she had on her patience was wearing thin. The pure evil the man exuded sickened her.

“No. You won’t.”

The mage lashed out at her mark with a red force so blinding it brought her to her knees. The sudden impact of the spell paralyzed her as the initial force struck her and white spots from the pain swam in front of her eyes. 

“The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again. That mark you bear? The anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my master. He’s been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade.” His smugness rankled Catlyn. She suddenly realized that the initial pain from his attack wasn’t unbearable anymore. In fact, as she focussed her energy on the mark, she could feel herself drawing in Livius’s energy into her own, balling it up in her fist. It was a sensation unlike any she had experienced thus far with the anchor. 

As the mage prattled on, she slowly stood and reached out towards him, drawing the concentrated energy in her palm and suddenly she struck out at him in return. He cried out in pain before staggering back and falling down, clutching his own palm as he slowly got up and hurried away from the stairs.

“Kill them!” he commanded his demons.

Within an instant, Catlyn and her companions were surrounded by rage demons bearing down on them with their fiery claws. Catlyn immediately cloaked herself and rolled out of the way of an oncoming demon just as she felt a pair of shields surround her, no doubt both Hawke and Dorian’s work. She came up behind the fiercest looking demon and hacked away at its backside as it screamed out in pain and frustration. Bull unleashed a whirlwind on it just as a frozen blast chilled it in its place.

Their battle waged on but between the simultaneous casting from both mages, the sickening slices of Cassandra, Stroud and Bull’s swords, they made short work of the attackers Livius left behind. Still, it had its desired effect: the man escaped out the back of the tower and Catlyn watched bitterly as he rode out through the desert. He had too much of a head start for them to catch him now.

“So that went well,” Hawke smirked, striding up to Catlyn.

“You were correct. Through their ritual, the mages are slaves to Corypheus,” Stroud acknowledged ruefully, disappointment evident on his face.

“And the Warden warriors?” Hawke asked before realization dawned and she shook her head bitterly. “Of course. It’s not real blood magic until someone gets sacrificed.”

“The Grey Wardens were misled,” Catlyn declared solemnly. She still couldn’t believe they could have gone to such extremes to prevent the Calling from taking over, but she wanted to believe that somehow they acted in the interest of the greater good.

“The Wardens were wrong, Hawke, but they had their reasons,” Stroud defended his comrades. As a Warden, he shared in their guilt and Catlyn could see the pain her felt as a result.

“All blood mages do,” Hawke snapped in reply. “Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify their decisions… and it never matters. In the end, you are always alone in your actions,” she finished bitterly. Catlyn struggled to see it so black and white as Hawke did. She knew from experience that not all decisions were so clear cut and sometimes gambles had to be taken in order to achieve certain ends. While she didn’t believe the ends always justified the means, she wasn’t so naïve that in some cases the justification was too great. She appreciated the responsibility the Grey Wardens bore and knew that the decisions they faced were not always so simple.

“I believe I know where the Grey Wardens are, Your Worship. Erimond fled in that direction. There is an abandoned Warden fortress that way. Adamant.” Stroud appeared resolute in his confidence and Catlyn was grateful for his knowledge.

“Good thinking,” she nodded in acknowledgment.

“The Warden and I will scout out Adamant and confirm that the other Wardens are there. We’ll meet you at Skyhold.” Hawke’s authority left Catlyn little doubt as to why she had become the Champion of Kirkwall. She never missed a beat.

“And where does that leave us then, hmm?” Dorian inquired. She knew he hated this place as much as she did.

Catlyn considered their options carefully. Having captured Griffon Keep from the Venatori, they were able to establish greater supply routes and a proper outpost in the area. Captain Rylen was already making great strides in establishing a presence in the area and had received reports of darkspawn activity, which troubled Catlyn. He was also awaiting engineers, supplies, and troops that Cullen had promised to send on Catlyn’s request to build a bridge over the sulphur pits. Unsure of how many darkspawn they may face, Catlyn was reluctant to investigate further without sufficient back-up.

The naïve Orlesian scholar also nagged at her somewhat. They had happened across his supplies while exploring the area and Catlyn was still dumbfounded at how the man managed to survive out here all on his own. After returning him the supplies and striking up a conversation, she discovered that he had been a student at the time her parents were at the university and spoke very highly of them both. He particularly seemed outraged at the treatment of her mother. He knew her associate professor well and believed him to be a witless ass. As a result, Catlyn sympathized with the man and considered his request for phoenix tail feathers and quillback intestines rather seriously.

“I’m still shy on deathroot,” Catlyn stated. Heir had requested twenty cuts of deathroot along with the tokens Catlyn had already gathered in Crestwood before she would even consider dealing with her any further. Why she needed so much deathroot, Catlyn couldn’t say, but asking the trainer would lead her nowhere so she didn’t bother.

“Wonderful,” Dorian clapped his hands in mock glee. “Let us continue wandering around this wasteland in search of blighted plants while we fend off Tevinter cultists. My idea of a dream trip.”

“Don’t forget searching for entrails and feathers,” she added helpfully. Dorian rolled his eyes at her and muttered something under his breath about taking months to get all the sand out from between cracks. Catlyn couldn’t blame him: she despised this place. She had yet to come across one redeeming quality. Still, if they could kill two birds with one stone, they might as well. Besides, she couldn’t return to Skyhold without the deathroot.

Catlyn and the others strode purposefully behind the brooding Tevinter as they headed back out into the desert. Hopefully they would get lucky and come across their bounty quickly so they could get back home. It had already been close to a month that they had been gone and Catlyn’s lips ached to get back to Cullen.

They spent the next two hours encountering and slaying at least a dozen quillbacks and the odd phoenix. They had certainly gathered enough supplies for Frederic but had barely scraped together a half dozen deathroot for Catlyn’s requisition. They were parched, sunburnt, and irritable. Cassandra’s patience was left somewhere near Nazaire’s Pass and even Bull had introduced a few new Qunari expletives to their repertoire. The sun was slowly setting and everyone had enough.

“Inquisitor or not, I simply don’t care anymore. You’re on your own my dear. I’ve had enough of this barren wasteland. No wonder my people gave it up long ago.” Dorian had stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms across his chest. Usually his objections came in the form of subtle sarcasm, his suggestions respectful yet pointed. Rarely did he put his foot down so abruptly.

The three turned to stare at him, slightly taken aback. Catlyn narrowed her eyes. “What is it, Dorian?”

“I’ve had enough. What part of that isn’t clear?” he replied sharply. Catlyn’s eyes widened in surprise. He was never short with her like this.

“It is getting a bit late, Boss. Camp’s not far from here,” Bull hinted gently.

Catlyn considered for a moment. “Let’s head back and drop the samples off to Frederic along the way. We can head out in the morning.”

Dorian stormed passed them towards camp, grumbling in frustrated resignation. The rest followed in silence. As they approached Frederic’s camp, Dorian turned the opposite way and headed straight to camp, leaving the rest of them behind. They delivered the samples to an enthusiastic and grateful Frederic who passed on yet another request before they joined Dorian in the camp. By the time they arrived, dusk had settled and Inquisition soldiers were busy preparing the evening meal. The fire was stoked, as despite the extreme heat during the day, nights were very chilly.

“Inquisitor,” the lead requisition officer saluted to Catlyn as she approached. “Nothing to report, Ser.”

“Thank you,” she nodded in return. “Harper, do you know where Lord Pavus is?” she scanned the camp but didn’t see him.

Harper nodded over to a rocky outcropping at the edge of camp. “Settled himself there and hasn’t moved, Your Worship.”

Catlyn thanked the officer and went to her tent, removing her weapons, helmet and gloves. She picked up her cloak and headed back out. As she made her way out to where Dorian sat, she was surprised to see Bull standing there between them, his back to her, doing what could only be staring off at the Tevinter.

“Bull?” Catlyn called out softly, not wanting to surprise him. “What are you doing?”

He turned his head to watch her approach but remained standing, his right arm crossing his chest and cradling his left elbow as he scratched his chin idly. “I think it’s catching up on him.”

Catlyn looked from Bull to Dorian and back again. “What is? The heat?”

Bull chuckled. “No. What he is.”

Catlyn stood totally perplexed. She had noticed Dorian grow gradually more irritable the more time they spent in the Western Approach nut she had chalked it up to it being the environment and lack of a bed. Somehow she felt she was missing something critical regarding the source of her friend’s surliness. 

“Alright, help me out here Ben-Hassrath. What’s eating our foul-humoured Tevinter friend?”

“Dorian left Tevinter because of his family, right?”

Catlyn nodded her head. She was a bit surprised that Bull knew about that, but then again, he wasn’t Ben-Hassrath for nothing.

“But it wasn’t really just that, right? He’s a proud man, proud Tevinter. A lot of what’s happened in the past year has opened his eyes to the rest of the world’s view on Tevinter: that it’s an arrogant, twisted culture that has been the cause of a lot of evil in the world. Corypheus is just the tip of the iceberg. The Venatori embody everything that’s wrong with that race and Dorian’s having a hard time seeing what’s become of his people,” Bull added, a woeful look in his eyes.

Catlyn was struck not just with the insight of her friend’s words, but the tenderness with which he spoke them. It was as if Bull was touched by the inner struggle Dorian was experiencing and she could see some of the mage’s pain reflected in the Qunari’s eyes. She was taken aback: neither man was especially friendly with the other, and Catlyn just assumed it had to do with the long-standing Tevinter-Qunari conflict. Though the more she thought about it, the less sense that made. Bull was the least Qunari-like Qunari she had ever met and Dorian, although defensive of his people, was hardly a staunch supporter of the Impreium's political beliefs. Could she have missed something brewing these past few months?

“Do you think we should leave him be?” she wondered. She wasn’t used to brooding Dorian. He preferred to face the world and its problems head on with wit and sarcasm- and a drink of some kind.

“I think he could use a friend,” Bull replied. “Take this,” he offered her his skin.

Catlyn took a sniff and wrinkled her nose. “Do I want to ask?”

“Probably not,” he grinned. She smiled knowingly and patted his arm before making her way over to the cliff edge where Dorian sat, one leg bent and the other dangling idly over the side. She took a seat beside him and handed him Bull’s skin. He accepted it without looking and took a long drink, barely wincing as he gulped it down. Catlyn was at once both impressed and concerned.

“It was easy to ignore the snide remarks at first,” Dorian began without warning. “‘Oh look, another opportunistic, blood magic-wielding Tevinter mage.’ ‘A spy!’ they would whisper. All rubbish and easily dismissed as the ignorant ramblings of frightened fools,” he snorted. “It was easy to dismiss them and the likes of Mother Giselle as nothing more than centuries-old jealous ravings. After all, Tevinter society was much too mighty and great to care about what the average misled Thedosian believed. We were a great Imperial Empire once, responsible for some of the greatest discoveries, architecture, and culture the world has ever known.” Dorian resumed his silent brooding and stared out across the horizon, the sun having disappeared a while ago.

“So what’s changed?” Catlyn asked hesitantly.

“When Corypheus attacked Haven and it was clear that everything we had been fed all these years were lies, it was the first time I looked at my people and saw us for what we had become,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I saw desperation. It reminded me of Alexius and how har he had fallen. I thought that was an isolated case, but now I see it's as rampant as the plague. The Venatori, Erimond… Everything Tevinter touches in blighted.”

"You're nothing like them, Dorian,” Catlyn grasped his arm gently and looked at him, wishing for him to return her stare. “These are wicked and misled people, but that is not the Tevinter people. Look at Felix. He wanted to stop his father. Surely there are others like you out there.”

Dorian laughed a hollow, dark sound. “Felix was just a boy. And if you ask my father, I was such a complete failure as a specimen that he wanted to permanently alter me. As if he couldn’t stand the possibility that I wouldn’t fit the perfect mold. I may not be exactly like them, but they are consistent as they can get and I still share the same blood.”

It broke Catlyn’s heart to see her friend so consumed with misplaced self-loathing. She knew he was a proud man but never realized what an impact all of the events might have on his self-confidence and beliefs.

“Dorian, you may share a heritage but that alone doesn’t define who you are. If that were the case I would have been doomed long ago. Look at how wretched my father’s family is. I share their blood but I am nothing like them. A person is defined by the actions they take and decisions they make. You weren’t wrong to believe what you grew up being told. It’s all you knew. Once you learned to make up your own mind, you made your own choices and they were nothing like your father’s or Erimond’s or Alexius’s. Surely you must see that,” she pleaded.

Dorian took a deep breath and sighed. “Where did they all go so wrong?” he wondered out loud. “How do I know I won’t make the same mistakes?” His face was tortured by the nagging doubt that clung to him.

Catlyn reached out and cupped his face and slowly turned it towards her, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “We all make mistakes but you will never make the ones they did because your moral standards are leagues above theirs. And you have friends who will support and guide you for as long as you shall live.”

“I have a friend, you mean,” he smiled ruefully at her.

She shook her head. “Friends. Plural. I’m not the only nutcase to throw her bet in with you,” she smiled and cast her gaze back to camp where Bull paced, occasionally looking back in their direction. Dorian’s gaze followed and Catlyn turned back just in time to see a curious look on his face.

“Yes, well, the Inquisition seems to be a magnet for fools,” he muttered.

Catlyn chuckled and placed her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “We’re very dedicated fools. Loyal too. And apparently fairly popular if our swelling ranks can attest to that.”

“I’ve always said the rest of Thedas was mad,” he sniffed in reply.

“At least we didn’t defile the Golden City, start a Blight, help raise a demon army,” she listed off the misdemeanors on her fingers.

“Alright alright, merciless jezebel,” he threw up his arms in surrender. “Some friend you are.”

The pair sat silently for a moment longer before the cool air finally started to creep into their skin.

“Let’s go back to camp where it’s warm,” Catlyn suggested.

“I suppose I am out of drink,” Dorian considered.

“Already! How could you possibly have emptied that so quickly?” she snatched the skin and held it upside down to inspect it for herself. She had been drinking with Bull for some time now and still she could barely stomach the stuff he drank.

“Developed a certain tolerance I suppose,” he shrugged casually and stood up, holding out his hand to her. Catlyn wondered just how long and often one would need to drink with Bull in order to develop such a tolerance. She took his hand and got up, brushing herself off.

“Shall we?”

The pair returned to camp and joined the others by the fire. Catlyn couldn’t help but notice Dorian and Bull exchange a look. How long indeed, she wondered.


	31. Buckling Under the Weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrium is catching up with Cullen.

Forty-seven days. Forty-seven long, unbearable days since Catlyn and the others had left.

At first it hadn’t been so bad: he had thrown himself into his work, easily distracted by the piles of correspondence and endless parade of soldiers, messengers and, Maker help him, nobles streaming through his office. He had taken one of Catlyn’s draughts as soon as she left and it left him feeling renewed and peaceful, like he hadn’t felt since the last one several weeks ago. He had heeded her advice and tried to limit the number he took and at least space them out evenly. However, with her absence, he worried that he may need to ration them even more than before and so had limited the number he took. 

After the first week the effects seemed to be wearing off more quickly than previously. Perhaps her absence denied him the distraction he usually felt with her presence, causing him to focus more on his symptoms than otherwise. But as the days turned into weeks, weeks into months, he could tell it was more than just her absence that was torturing him.

Cullen found the physical effects to be the strongest. While the nightmares continued to torment him, he had yet to experience any hallucinations. That was a relief, at least. However, each day brought new pain: his knee would give out; the tremors in his hands were more visible; and his heart would race and slow sporadically, causing him to experience fainting spells. More than once a lieutenant or soldier caught him off-balance, and though he was able to brush it off with some excuse or another, they were becoming weaker and more predictable as time went by.

The doubt continued to nag at him as well. Every decision he second guessed. Should he have committed so many soldiers to collecting more metals in Emprise du Lion, or should he have directed more to strengthen their presence in the camps they established in the Hinterlands? Were the newest recruits truly ready for battle or was he getting desperate?

Highest on his list was his decision to ignore the advisors and pursue a relationship with Catlyn. Dorian had argued vehemently in favour of it and even Leliana had seemed to soften on the issue. She even went so far as to offer him the use of her most reliable ravens to send personal messages to the Inquisitor while she was away instead of restricting them for critical Inquisition correspondence. It had felt so right in the moment he kissed her. Every detail, every curve of her lips, the taste of her warm mouth on his; he remembered it like it had just happened. But slowly, even the demons in his dreams found new ways to twist the happiness around and now he pictured her face cold and skeletal as the hands of Corypheus reached out and clutched her in his talon-like grip.

What if his decisions led to her death? Would he be able to bear it? It had happened once before, back in Kinloch Hold. He never thought he could recover from that, yet here he stood. Was it yet another mistake? Could he survive another loss?

He leaned over his desk, clutching the edge as a tremor racked his chest, sending shockwaves down his ribcage. He inhaled sharply and pushed the thoughts from his mind. Pull yourself together man, he scolded himself. You must endure.

There was an excited knock on his door before it opened and the Inquisitor walked in, beaming at him. She closed the door and strode over to meet him. Cullen quickly stood up, trying his best to hide any weakness he may have shown. He stared at her in surprise, a silly grin sneaking its way onto his face. He hadn’t really known when to expect them back and after so many delays he had given up hope that it would be soon.

“What is it? Cat got your tongue?” she teased, giving him a lopsided grin.

“Not yet,” he murmured before leaning in for a kiss. He slipped his hand around her waist, the other behind her head as he pulled her in, crushing their bodies together and pressing his lips to hers in a seamless embrace. He drank her in like an elixir of life, allowing himself to feel the greatest calm he had since she had left.

Catlyn groaned and swatted his shoulder, giggling as he reluctantly relinquished her mouth. “Oh that’s so bad,” she complained, laughing at his humour.

“I do believe it was your choice of words, Your Worship.”

“I’ve been on the road for weeks. I’m exhausted and delirious and take no responsibility for my choice of humour,” she proclaimed, raising her arms in mock defence.

“You have been gone a long time,” he pulled her closer, unwilling to surrender her just yet. “Your last message was five days ago and said you were merely passing through Emprise du Lion on your way home. What happened?”

“Darkspawn,” Catlyn shuddered and closed her eyes. “We discovered an entrance to the Deep Roads while looking for Grey Warden artifacts that they managed to open. We sealed it thanks to Dorian. Shouldn’t have any further problems.”

“Are you alright?” he frowned. “You didn’t get too close to any of them, did you?” Cullen knew of the dangers of darkspawn taint and the thought of Catlyn being attacked by those creatures horrified him. With her close-combat fighting style, she was at a greater risk of being infected than others.

She shook her head. “I spent almost all my reserves of knockout powder and Dorian made sure to keep them paralyzed as often as he could. They can’t attack you if they can’t move,” she smirked.

Cullen exhaled deeply, relieved that she escaped unscathed. “Can’t Blackwall find those blasted artifacts on his own,” he grumbled.

Catlyn just shrugged. “We’re out there anyways. A few extra eyes won’t hurt. But I didn’t come here to discuss the merits of risking darkspawn attacks. The others want a debrief so come on, it’s off to the War Room we go,” she smiled, pulling his arm.

“As you command, Inquisitor,” he replied with a mock bow.

“Oh stop,” she chided, dropping his arm with a roll of her eyes.

As she turned towards the door, Cullen took a step forward and buckled slightly at the knee. He caught the edge of his desk and braced himself, hoping it would go unnoticed but Catlyn’s sharp senses missed nothing. She looked at him with a concerned frown.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes of course, it’s nothing. Overdid it in the training yard,” he replied with a wave of his hand. It wasn’t a complete lie: he had suffered a blow to the knee while practicing with some recruits, but that was days ago and minor in comparison to what he felt now. He could tell Catlyn wasn’t easily convinced, but she mercifully let the matter drop. He mustered up the most genuine smile he could through gritted teeth and the pair walked over to the War Room together. As they walked, he stole a glance at her. He was relieved to have her back in once piece and thanked the Maker for her return. He decided to take advantage of the peaceful effect she had on him and ignored the throbbing pain in his treacherous leg as they made their way over for the Council session.

\---  
Unfortunately for Cullen, even the positive effect of both Catlyn and Dorian on him was short-lived. Mere days later, the constant pain in his head returned and his legs throbbed. Cullen could barely focus on his orders and re-read requests and status reports three and four times before he could make sense of them. He drew the line after he practically snapped the head off of his soldier who had come in to deliver word that troops were assigned to the Hinterlands as per his request, when Cullen claimed he had asked them to be diverted to Emprise du Lion to move supplies out of the town. The poor soldier nearly wet himself when Cullen raged at him and he felt so ashamed later when he came across the orders, signed by his hand, indicating that they were indeed to have been sent to the Hinterlands. 

He found the soldier and apologized but it was still too much. He thought he could handle the effects of the withdrawal but he was a fool to think so. Greater men had attempted it and had fallen, spending the rest of their days barking mad in Greenfell. He was arrogant to believe it would be different for him.

Gathering himself, he made his way down to the practice grounds in search of the Seeker. Fortunately he found her seated alone by the practice targets reading something that she quickly hid behind her back as she stood. Cullen was too focussed to really notice or even care.

“Seeker, we need to talk,” he greeted her gruffly.

“What about?” she replied, her eyes narrowing. Cullen shot her a withering glare but didn’t reply. “I see,” she said. She motioned for him to follow her into the armoury which was mercifully quiet, the workers having left for the midday meal.

“What do you wish to discuss, Commander?” she asked him, settling her hands on her hips and sizing him up.

Cullen took a deep breath and began. “Before the Inquisition was formed, you and I had an agreement. If you felt my ability to lead was compromised because of my decision to stop taking lyrium, you would find a replacement.”

Cassandra eyed him coolly, her face expressionless. “And?” she replied after a silence.

Cullen gritted his teeth. Must she make him say it? “And, I believe the time had come for you to make that decision.”

“On what basis?” she asked dismissively.

“On the basis that I am not fit to lead the Inquisition forces,” he growled through clenched teeth. He could hear his heart beating in his head like a war drum, ordering him on a march to surrender. “Surely you can see that I am in no condition to lead. Leliana has her eyes everywhere. You must think I’m a fool if you believe I don’t know she keeps you informed.”

Cassandra’s eyes were thin slits as she crossed her arms across her chest. “I am fully aware of your condition and what you’re capable of, Commander. I do not see any reason to seek a replacement. You are not relieved from your duty.”

“Why?” he lurched forward desperately, clenching his fists at his sides. His heart beat wildly and his mind reeled. “How can you believe that? Look at me- I can barely stand without shaking like a foal. I give orders I can’t even recall and accuse soldiers of disobedience. What kind of commander does that?”

“You asked for my opinion and I have given it. Why would you expect it to change?”

“I expect you to keep your word. It’s relentless. I can’t-“

“You give yourself too little credit,” she cut him off. “There are more experienced generals who have done far worse, Commander. You are under an enormous amount of pressure. That is enough for even a seasoned commander to suffer through. Still, your decisions are wise and reasonable. I have no reason to feel otherwise.”

“What about the Inquisitor?” he glared at her. “You made it clear what you thought the wisest course of action was and yet I chose to ignore it. What do you say to that?”

Cassandra’s frown deepened and she paused before replying. “I didn’t recruit you because I thought you would be a spineless puppet. My counsel is only one among others. You made a decision, as did the Inquisitor. If you both judge this will not interfere with our cause, then I respect it.”

Cullen was taken aback. That was not at all what he expected from her. It caught him so off-guard; the heat drained from his arguments and he slumped slightly, the wind having been blown out of his sails.

“If I am unable to fulfill what vows I kept, then nothing good has come of this,” he mumbled, giving it one last effort. “Would you rather save face than admit-“

Cullen broke off abruptly as the door opened and Catlyn strode in, eyeing the pair suspiciously. She walked up and stood between them, her eyes settling on Cullen. He couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes and before she had the chance to speak, he brushed passed her.

“Forgive me,” he muttered as he left the pair alone. No doubt Cassandra would share his concerns with her. She was, after all, aware of his arrangement with the Seeker. He didn’t like keeping things from her but she already had enough on her shoulders without needing her commander to fall apart at the seams. She deserved better- the Inquisition deserved better- and it killed him to know that he was failing them both.


	32. The Decision to Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Catlyn makes a big decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I linked in a fair amount of the game dialogue here, but found that it didn't exactly fit my circumstances. So it was adapted slightly.
> 
> This is hard for Catlyn. She really feels a responsibility to protect her mother from any further pain and suffering. She has been through enough. In her own way, she feels like she is shielding her and is better off away and ignorant of what is going on with Catlyn's life than had she been pulled in from the start. It's a bit misguided- a parent can never truly forget their child or stop thinking about them. In my own experience, better to be near and aware of things than far and in the dark. But this is from Catlyn's perspective, not her mother's. Her intentions are good.

“Cullen has asked that I find a replacement for him.”

Cassandra’s words were like a blow. Replacement? Why? What had he not told her? She had noticed a certain stiffness in his movements since their return from the Western Approach and the circles under his eyes appeared darker than ever, but everything she had heard indicated that he was well in control of matters. Could it really be that the withdrawal symptoms had taken a turn for the worse? She thought he was doing so well.

“I refused. It’s not necessary,” Cassandra continued. “Besides, it would destroy him. He’s come so far.”

Catlyn nodded mutely. She was relieved that Cassandra felt that way, but at the same time chastised herself for not having paid closer attention. She was a whirlwind of emotions: disappointed that he didn’t feel he could confide in her; confused because she thought she had more time; helpless because she didn’t know enough to fix it herself; and most of all, afraid that there may be no way to cure him. The thought of losing him paralyzed her.

Cassandra watched her closely, her face softening slightly as she watched the struggle in her companion’s features. Catlyn could feel the intensity of her gaze as she fought to find the right words.

“If he feels like he’s let everyone down… that he’s let you down… then perhaps that’s why he can’t find it in him to persevere,” Catlyn stuttered, struggling to express herself. She knew Cassandra didn’t approve of their relationship and felt guilty having convinced him to go against the Seeker’s advice out of her own selfish regard.

“He’s done no such thing,” Cassandra replied firmly. “And before you go on, you must know that while I may have opposed your relationship at first, I’ve come to realize how short-sighted that was of me. I overreact. It’s what I do,” she sighed apologetically. “It wouldn’t be the first time I let my initial reaction take over and ignore any other possibility. My instincts are what have brought me this far but I’m not above recognizing when I’m wrong.” It was the Seeker’s turn to look contrite.

Catlyn stared at her in surprise. “What made you change your mind?”

Cassandra frowned and sighed. “I remembered that there needs to be a reason we are fighting the war. It's more than just peace and saving the world. There needs to be something worth saving. What better than love?” she smiled shyly, blushing ever so slightly. Catlyn was touched by the sincerity in her tone. Gentle Cassandra didn’t show her face very often.

“Why Cass, how very romantic of you,” she teased kindly.

“Don’t go spreading it around.” 

Catlyn chuckled and smiled. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Cassandra smirked and stared into the oven at the flames. “Mages have made their suffering known, but the Templars never have. They are bound to the Order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash.”

“No wonder they want out of it so badly,” Catlyn muttered darkly.

Cassandra nodded and turned her head towards her. “Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself- and anyone who would follow suit- that it’s possible. He can do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall. Talk to him. Decide if now is the time.”

Catlyn pursed her lips. “There is no perfect time to do this, but the longer he waits, the more difficult and damaging it will become.”

“How do you know this?” Cassandra asked, her face quizzical. "I didn’t think Antivan Crows would be so well-versed in the effects of lyrium withdrawal.”

“They’re not,” she replied flatly and hesitated a moment before continuing. Cassandra could see it was clear that the topic was painful for her, though she wasn’t sure why.

“My mother studied the effects of lyrium withdrawal at the university. She and my father were collaborating on research before…” her voice trailed off. Cassandra knew her mother’s fate and that of her research as well.

“Is your mother still…” she ventured. No one had ever come out and asked Catlyn what had happened to her mother and she never volunteered. If they thought she was dead or gone, all the better to keep her protected. Now the question hung in the air and she was torn, so afraid to tell the truth and risk her mother’s safety.

“I’m sorry, Catlyn,” her friend’s face was filled with remorse. “I didn’t mean to drag up painful memories for you. Maker knows you’ve suffered enough.”

Catlyn could barely move. She wasn’t deserving of the sympathy but she was afraid to reveal her last hidden secret. Hopefully one day her friends would understand and forgive her.

“I’ll go speak with Cullen,” she mumbled and turned to leave. As she reached the door, she turned back to her friend. “Thank you, Cassandra. Your support means a great deal to me.” Cassandra smiled in return as Catlyn left the armoury, striding past the practice grounds towards the stairs that led to Cullen’s office.

As she neared the top of the stairs and approached the open door, she gasped in surprise as a small case flew across the doorway in front of her, crashing against the door and narrowly missing her. She took a cautious step into the office and peered in, her gaze meeting the troubled and embarrassed eyes of the Commander.

“Maker’s breath!” he cried out in alarm. “I didn’t hear you enter! I-” he cut off, shaking his head and moving slowly towards her. “Forgive me,” he mumbled.

“Good form, just a bit premature,” she joked, trying to ease the tension.

“You don’t have to-” he groaned, grasping the edge of his desk as his leg gave out again. He shook his head miserably. “I never meant for this to interfere.”

“Cullen, when was the last time you took one of the draughts I left you?” Catlyn asked, coming over to him, resting her arm on his shoulder.

“Just after you left for the Western Approach,” he gasped as another spasm reached his sides.

Catlyn exhaled sharply through pursed lips as she tried to reign in her temper. Stubborn man. “You needn’t go so long between them, you know that. Every couple of weeks is alright until we find something better to-”

“I don’t want to be a slave to anything,” he cut in angrily. “If not lyrium then the elixirs. You said it yourself, it’s just good as a temporary measure, not a cure. What if something happens and I can’t take it anymore. I need to sustain myself without it.” He pushed himself away from the desk and walked several paces away.

“I know it’s only temporary, but it offers some respite,” she coaxed him gently. “You needn’t suffer unnecessarily.”

“How will this ever end?” he countered angrily. “It’s relentless. It eats away at what’s left of me, which isn’t much. What I’ve seen, what I’ve done- how can you be the same person after that?” His voice was filled with anguish as he paced back and forth before finally settling in front of the window. “I’ve fought so hard to put the past behind me and be the man I once thought I could be, but how can I ever succeed if I’m still bound to the life I desperately want to leave behind. I don’t want to drag this out. I want it over. Can’t you see I want nothing to do with that life?” he turned to look at her, his voice desperate and pleading. It broke Catlyn’s heart to see him so lost.

“Of course, I do, I-”

“Don’t. You should be questioning what I’ve done. My job is to put the Inquisition first,” he rubbed his face as if he could rub the pain right out. “I thought this would be better- that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won’t leave me,” he growled in frustration.

As Cullen paced, Catlyn struggled to decide what to do. Clearly he was in the throes of withdrawal and what little she did know about it told her that he was going to need more than simply elixirs to see him through it. If she cared for him and the Inquisition, there was really only one option for her.

“How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause!” he nearly shouted as he spun on his heels in front of her, looking ever so much like a caged lion. “I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry. I should be taking it!” he yelled, balling his fist and smashing it into the bookshelf. Silence filled the air as he stood resting his hands against the shelves, hanging his heads between two arms.

Catlyn slowly made her way to his side and hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder. “This doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition, Cullen,” she spoke softly, pouring as much strength and care into her words as she could. “Is this what you want?”

He exhaled slowly and stood up, his head bowed. “No,” he finally yielded as he looked up into her eyes. “But these memories have always haunted me,” he confessed, desperation in his eyes. “If they become worse, if I cannot endure this…” he trailed off, struggling to express the pain he already felt.

“Do you trust me?” she asked, meeting his gaze. “If you’ve ever believed in me before without any cause other than your faith, believe me now when I say I can help you. You can and you will fight this. I promise you, we will break this leash. You don’t have to do it alone and you don’t have to be a martyr. Promise me you will fight this,” she begged, willing with every bone in her body to give him the strength to soldier on.

After a long silence, he replied in barely a whisper, “I do. But how?” he shook his head in doubt.

“I need some time. Not much,” she quickly added, seeing the fear roll in his eyes. “You need to take an elixir but I promise you it won’t be forever. I’ve never asked for you to believe in me before, even though you have. Now I’m asking- no, begging- I will find an end to this. I swear it. No matter the cost,” she swallowed hard, her decision having been made.

Cullen nodded mutely in acceptance. Catlyn squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll go have another batch mixed. Promise me you’ll take it as soon as it’s delivered. I need to go and speak with Leliana.” She gave him one last reassuring smile before leaving him alone to his struggle.

Her first stop was to see Elan Ve’mal in the garden. She had been working with the elf since shortly after arriving in Skyhold. She had come recommended, yet Catlyn found the elf lacked a certain intuition for alchemy that Adan possessed. She missed her friend terribly. Still, she could follow instructions well and after leaving her with precise details and a request that she work with Solas on the draught, she left her and went in search of the Spymaster.

She quickly rounded the steps to the library, not even pausing to speak with Dorian who watched her pass from his alcove perch with one eyebrow raised. She knew any further interruptions along the way would cause her to falter and lose her nerve. For Cullen’s sake, she couldn’t allow it.

As she reached the top, her heart pounding, she was rewarded with the bard’s all-familiar hooded figure. Leliana immediately glanced up at her in greeting.

“Inquisitor,” she smiled, her Orlesian accent clear as ever. “What can I do for you?”

Catlyn took a deep breath. Maker watch over her. “I need your help.”


	33. Something's Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen can sense the Inquisitor is up to something.

“Have you noticed anything peculiar about the Inquisitor?” Cullen moved his pawn and stared pensively at the board. Dorian’s gaze remained fixed on the game at hand.

“She never drinks caffeinated beverages, her socks are always mismatched, and I’ve never seen her wear her hair down. Not even once. If you’re looking for something deeper than that, Commander, you’ll have to be more specific.” Dorian moved his knight and relaxed back in his chair, satisfied with his position.

Cullen frowned. “She drinks coffee every day.”

“Decaf,” the mage shrugged. 

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.” Dorian tapped his fingers impatiently on the chair arm. “As captivating as it is to discuss the mundane quirks of our mutual friend, I’d rather focus on decimating you on the board. Unless of course there was a point to your question.”

Cullen could already tell he was going to lose, but he was in the mood to make the Tevinter work for it. He took his time evaluating his options, which gave him the opportunity to gather his thoughts.

“She seems a bit distracted, that’s all,” he replied, finally making his next move. “I wondered if you’d noticed.”

“She does have a twisted darkspawn magister seeking to obliterate her while plotting to assassinate the Empress of Orlais. I’m no expert on the matter, but I would hazard a guess that would preoccupy her thoughts rather completely,” Dorian answered tartly.

“What’s eating you, Dorian? Out of your favourite hair product?” Cullen countered, a bit put off by the mage’s snarky attitude. Dorian rarely took things too seriously but there was a slight edge to his tone that was unlike him.

“If only it were that simple,” he muttered, staring moodily at the board. He took a deep sigh and made his next move. “To answer your question, no, I hadn’t noticed anything in particular. Why do you ask?”

Cullen considered it for a moment. “I’m not sure what it is, but I know there’s something. For instance, she and Leliana are up to something. I can tell by their hushed whispers before War Council sessions, the furtive glance Catlyn casts her. She’s constantly checking in with her for reports. Usually she hides from Leliana or Josephine in an effort to limit the amount of correspondence she needs to wade through. It’s as if she’s expecting something.”

“Perhaps she is. What of it?”

“Usually I know about it, but right now there isn’t anything critical we’re waiting on.”

“So are you more concerned about the information she’s expecting or the fact that she didn’t confide in you?”

“It’s not like that,” Cullen protested. “She doesn’t need to run everything by me. She just seems, I don’t know… worried about something and she hasn’t said anything about it. In fact, she hasn’t been by much at all lately, save to check in on my symptoms.”

“Do you think she’s hiding something?” Dorian asked, genuine curiosity replacing his irritation from earlier.

“We all hide things.”

“Yes of course, but that’s not entirely what I meant,” Dorian sighed in frustration. “I mean, do you feel she’s up to something she doesn’t want you to know about? A surprise, perhaps? I can’t imagine it’s anything to be concerned about, Commander. She clearly cares for you and anything of import she felt you should be consulted on she would have communicated.”

Cullen stared at the chess board blindly. What was it exactly that nagged at him? He would admit that after she walked in on his discussion with the Seeker and his subsequent breakdown, he was troubled by doubt once again. He had trouble imagining that a woman of her strength could ever see him as an equal worthy of her affection. She had professed to care for him but he still wondered if he was enough. Since then she hadn’t exactly been distant, but she was certainly distracted. There was still much he didn’t know about her and the lingering doubts plagued him.

“I suppose,” he mumbled. “I just can’t help this feeling that there is something going on. Something she doesn’t want the rest of us to know about.”

“If that’s the case, I’m sure there is a good reason for it.”

“You aren’t curious or concerned?”

“I’m her best friend. There isn’t anything she can’t tell me,” he sniffed dismissively. “Now will you please get on with this? As much as I enjoy embarrassing you at this game, the effect isn’t as impressive when it’s drawn out so long.”

“Good things come to those who wait,” he quipped.

“Self-righteous ass. Just hurry up and move already.”

Cullen chuckled and made another move as the pair settled into a comfortable silence.

\---  
The door to the War Room opened and the Inquisitor stepped in. Cullen and the others had gathered and Josephine was bringing him up to speed on progress she had made securing them an invitation to the Winter Palace. He looked over and smiled at Catlyn who returned the gesture before exchanging a glance with Leliana. He caught the Spymaster subtly shake her head and the disappointed frown that briefly flashed across Catlyn’s face before she resumed her usual focussed stare. Each ran through their updates and exchanged thoughts on various courses of action before concluding their daily session. Cullen had hoped to speak with Catlyn and see if he could draw anything out of her unusually hard shell, but she slipped out quickly following Leliana. He watched from several paces back as the two spoke quietly.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on there?” he asked Josephine who had followed him out.

“What do you mean, Commander?”

“That,” he waved at the two women. “They seem more secretive than usual.”

“Leliana is the master of secrets,” Josephine replied, not bothered. “It is not unusual for her to speak in confidence with the Inquisitor.”

Cullen sighed. “So you haven’t noticed anything peculiar going on?”

“I’ve since learned that in the Inquisition, peculiar and strange are average. It’s when everything is going too well that we should be concerned, Commander.”

Cullen grinned. “Very wise, Ambassador.”

Just as the two women reached the exit to the grand hall, a messenger came rushing through the door.

“Sister Leliana! Your books have arrived.”

Catlyn visibly stiffened. There was no mistaking it. Leliana acknowledged the messenger and turned towards the Inquisitor, a knowing smile on her face. “I promised you, it would be done.”

“What would be done?” Cullen asked, approaching the pair. Catlyn’s ashen face left him doubting the news was any good. She quickly averted his gaze. Something was amiss.

“The Inquisitor requested a certain delivery, Commander. It seems it has arrived. Would you care to join us?”

Leliana’s smug grin did very little to settle him. He was baffled by Catlyn’s reaction. Clearly she was hiding something. But what?

“Of course,” he replied simply and gestured for them to continue, falling into step behind them. Josephine tagged along as well and he could see by her puzzled expression that she was as confused as he was.

They followed the pair through the hall and down to the main gates which were raised. It was nearing midday and the people of Skyhold were preparing for their meal. The yards were relatively quiet and guard rotations were taking place inside the barracks within the fortifications. Leliana led them out through the gates and stopped to watch a pair of travellers on horseback approach on the causeway. From where he stood, Cullen could see they were not a part of the Inquisition: neither wore armour nor the insignia of the Inquisition. As the riders came near, Cullen could see the second rider was heavily cloaked and unrecognizable. The first was a handsome man who appeared confident in his manner. He carried heavy packs on his horse which evidently held the books that Leliana had referenced, but he could see no visible weaponry. His eyes remained fixed on him. Who was this person? A library dealer? He seemed to fix his gaze on the Inquisitor and regarded her with a certain respect and care that Cullen found completely unsettling. Suddenly the memory of the mysterious letter the Inquisitor had received in Haven came flooding back to him. Was this related? She had said she had grown up in a bookstore. Was this some former lover she had left behind, come to reclaim his heart’s desire? Is that why she had been acting so peculiar? She didn’t know how to let him down? Dread washed over him as he fought back a wave of nausea. He no longer paid any attention to the other rider.

As they approached, the man gracefully swung down from his saddle and strode towards the group. Cullen stood transfixed, watching the scene unfold. He expected the man to throw himself at Catlyn but instead he paused and saluted her before turning to face Leliana. 

“Nightingale. The books have been safely delivered, as per your instructions.”

“Thank you,” Leliana replied. “Did you encounter any trouble?”

“A few bandits along the way, but nothing targeted at us specifically. Perils of the road.”

Leliana nodded. “Take the horses to Master Dennet and see to it that the baggage is safely transported to the Inquisitor’s chambers.”

Cullen’s stomach lurched. Chambers? Why? Something wasn’t quite right. Why would they bring his belongings to the Inquisitor’s quarters when he barely acknowledged her? Clearly Leliana was in charge but it didn’t explain his presence or his identity. He suddenly remembered there were two riders and turned to see Catlyn staring at the other person who had dismounted and stood before her. It was a woman, and she wore a simple travel garb but the heavy cloak cast her face in shadows. She reached up and pushed back her hood, revealing the face of an older woman who bore a striking resemblance to Catlyn. Her eyes were different and lines creased the corners where Catlyn’s were still smooth, but the shape of her face and mouth were identical. Her hair was the same auburn as Catlyn’s, though kissed with grey and pulled back into a simple Fereldan knot. She was beautiful despite her years though it was clear that worry had been hard on her and there was a deep pain hidden behind her eyes. She returned Catlyn’s stare with a hint of warmth on her otherwise stoic face. Cullen was certain he saw relief as well.

Catlyn cleared her throat. “I believe introductions are owed,” she said, casting a slightly apologetic glance his way. “May I present Professor Helena Damerell.”

The woman chuckled softly. I don’t believe I’ve been called that in years.”

The pieces began to fall into place for Cullen as he glanced back and forth between the two. But after everything he had learned, after what she had told him, he didn’t think it was possible. At least not likely.

“On these grounds, you will be addressed as such,” she replied determinedly. “Besides, I don’t think any other title would sound quite right.”

“And what title would that be, Your Worship?” Josephine ventured, finally breaking her own stunned silence.

“Mother of the Inquisitor,” Leliana offered with a smirk.


	34. Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn gets a chance to apologize and explain herself.  
> She also discovers she wasn't so sneaky after all.

Catlyn was a wound up ball of emotions. Making the decision to bring her mother in had been difficult. She knew the risk of transporting her to Skyhold would be significant. They had already experienced one traitorous spy among their ranks. Holding her mother hostage could appear attractive to any number of enemies of the Inquisition and the thought still gave Catlyn the chills. Leliana had assured her that she would send the most skilled field agent to recover her and Catlyn would be forever grateful for her success.

But now as her mother stood before her, a whole new series of fears overwhelmed her. She had consciously kept her mother in the dark for well over a year now. How would she react to her clandestine summons? Was she angry? Was she hurt? Would she understand? Suddenly she faced a reality she had been able to ignore up until now. Coupled with her fear of how her friends would react, Catlyn had spent the better part of the past few weeks in agony, struggling with her anxiety. She wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Professor Damerell, it is an honour to meet you. The Inquisitor has spoken little but well of you. I look forward to learning more about you during your stay with us,” Josephine gracefully welcomed her mother. Ever the diplomat, Catlyn was never so thankful for her friend’s tact before.

“Thank you, my lady. It is an honour to be here,” her mother bowed her head politely in return.

“Forgive me, Professor. My name is Josephine Montilyet. I am the Ambassador of the Inquisition. You must be exhausted following your journey. Please, allow me to escort you inside.”

“Thank you, Ambassador,” she replied, following Josephine’s outstretched arm to guide her. The others fell into step around them. “Do I detect an Antivan accent?”

“Indeed you do. My family hails from Antiva City. I understand you live there?”

“I do. It is a beautiful city and I am sad to leave it. I confess, the cold weather may take some getting used to. My bones are getting older and I’m not used to such a climate,” she smiled ruefully in the same manner Catlyn did. It was clear that there was a family resemblance. Despite the lines and grey, the mother-daughter pair could almost pass as twins.

“May I ask, how long do you plan on staying with us Professor?”

“For as long as you’ll have me, Ambassador,” she answered, casting a pointed look at Catlyn who walked beside them. She cringed inwardly. She knew that tone.

“She will stay in my quarters until we can find suitable accommodations for her Josie,” Catlyn informed her advisor. “I was hoping for a room not far from Lord Pavus’s chamber.”

Josephine nodded her head. “Very well, Inquisitor. I will have arrangements made at once. Forgive me, Professor. Had I known of your arrival, I would have seen to preparations.”

“It is no trouble at all, Ambassador. My daughter and I are accustomed to sharing tight quarters,” she replied with a smirk.

By now they had entered the grand hall which was filled with people enjoying their midday meal. Catlyn desperately wished to cloak herself and her mother to pass through but knew it would be impossible. She held her head high and marched through the hall, feeling dozens of eyes staring at them as they walked past. For most, seeing the Inquisitor with what could be a spitting image of her at her side appeared to be some kind of magic. She caught a glimpse of Varric’s expression and could have sworn she heard him curse in awe, “Well, shit.”

As they reached the door to her chambers, they stopped. Catlyn faced Cullen and her heart nearly broke as the full impact of his reaction settled on her. Confusion, pain, and, worst of all, disappointment were evident on his face. She didn’t know what she could possibly say in that moment to make it right, so she retreated as quickly as she could.

“If you’ll excuse us, the Professor and I have much to discuss. Thank you again for your assistance, Leliana,” she addressed her formally given the audience they had attracted. “This is a debt for which I can never repay you.”

“We owe you our lives, Inquisitor. It’s the least I can do,” she replied solemnly.

Catlyn bowed her head in goodbye and she and her mother ascended the long set of stairs in silence. Her mother’s belongings had been placed by her desk and the fire had been stoked. Catlyn walked nervously over to the foot of her bed and turned to stare at her mother alone for the first time in over a year. Guilt snaked through her and hissed in her ears as she realized the extra lines and whiter hair were completely her doing. Her mother had aged and she knew it was all her fault. All of a sudden no excuse, no amount of apologies or justification seemed sufficient to make up for what she had put her through. Her mother stood staring back at her, a mixture of relief and disbelief on her face.

“I thought you were dead,” was all she spoke before Catlyn burst into tears.

“Mum, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry,” she blithered, burying her face in her hands. “I was afraid they would come for you to get to me and I thought that if no one knew, no one could hurt you.”

In two quick paces her mother had pulled her into an embrace and gently stroked her hair, whispering soothing words in her ear just as she had done when she was a child. The comfort of her familiar touch and scent overwhelmed her and sent her into a deeper fit of sobs as she clung to her mother’s slender frame.

“Hush now little lamb,” she cooed, kissing her head. She held her daughter in silence, letting Catlyn release the weight of emotions she had been carrying for some time.

Catlyn’s hiccupping sobs finally relented and she pulled away slightly to look in her mother’s familiar eyes. “The letter you sent- I know the bookkeeper in Val Royeaux must have contacted you. But how could you have ever guessed?” She truly wondered how her mother could have believed such a far-fetched claim from an elderly main she probably hadn’t seen in years.

Her mother looked thoughtfully at her, biding her time, choosing her words wisely as she always did. “I wondered what might have happened when Rinaldo returned without you. When word reached that Gaspar had died at the Conclave, I feared the worst. As time went on and you didn’t return, I started to lose hope. But some part of me felt that if you had truly perished in that explosion, I would have known. I would have felt it. So I nursed a seed of hope that you would reappear.”

Catlyn stood dumbstruck as her admission sunk in. She stared wildly at her mother with a horrified expression on her face.

“How do you know about Gaspar?” she squeaked.

Her mother smiled pitifully at her and chuckled softly. “Oh Catlyn. One day, if you have a child, you will understand. There was no way you could hide something like that from me. I could see the guilt all over your face every time you left the house to see him. Ah, before you start,” she held her hand up to stop her from speaking, “you must know that he came to see me after that night by the Chantry. He explained his intentions with you and I agreed to his terms.”

Now Catlyn was truly in shock. She was expecting her mother to be hurt, furious- anything but calm and understanding. The realization that all this time her mother knew exactly what she was doing cast everything into a different perspective- and raised a number of alarming questions.

“So you were comfortable with me running with a known master assassin of the Antivan Crows?”

“I can’t say I didn’t have any reservations. I still do. But I knew Gaspar and I knew his reputation. Most people in Antiva knew of the famed Gaspar Assisi.”

“You knew him before? You never mentioned that. Come to think of it, neither did he,” Catlyn frowned. Why had he kept that from her, she wondered.

Her mother nodded. “It was under very unfortunate circumstances. When we first arrived in Antiva, you might recall we stayed at the Chantry for a time. I helped the revered mother tend to the sick and wounded who were too poor to afford medical help. One day, Gaspar came in, desperate, with a young girl in his arms. She had been set upon by a particularly loathsome group of merchants which included among them a prince. Filthy vermin,” she spat, very out of character for her. Her mother could remain composed under most any circumstances. “The girl was his daughter. There wasn’t anything I could do for her other than mix some draughts to ease her pain as she passed through the Veil. I watched as he held her in his arms and she died. Her mother had died years before from illness and she was all he had left. He left the Chantry a broken man. After that, his reputation took off. A few weeks after her death, he came to see me to thank me for my kindness and assistance. We never spoke again until he approached me with a proposition for you.”

“What was the proposition?” she asked warily, the revelations completing unbalancing her.

“He believed his daughter was ill-equipped to survive the streets of Antiva. He blamed himself for not having done enough to guide and protect her. When he came upon you that night, I think something triggered in his mind. The fact that you resembled her very much at the same age might have played into it, I don’t know. Whatever it was, he offered to watch out for you and teach you how to keep yourself safe. Given your wilful and even, dare I say, careless tendencies at the time, I decided it wasn’t a bad idea. He could certainly do that better than I ever could.”

Catlyn nodded her head slowly in understanding. “Did you know he would ask me to join the Crows?”

“I couldn’t imagine him not,” she replied earnestly. “We discussed the possibility and it seemed we shared the same opinion. If he did ask, it was with your safety in mind and should anything happen to him, you would be free to go.” As she spoke, her gaze became more intense and questioning.

“He was good on his word. I only learned after the fact, but he secured my release.”

Her mother breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the Maker for honest people. I suppose since you were unaware of the arrangement, finding yourself caught up in the Inquisition and away from the Crows had you concerned about their reaction?”

“It was my greatest fear,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I had nightmares of them coming after you. I would have sent for you sooner but I was even more afraid that any one of the enemies of the Inquisition would find out about you and do the same. I figured there was hope that for some time, if the Crows assumed I was dead, it would give me the opportunity to figure out a plan. I never meant to hurt you, I swear it,” she choked on her words, the tears flooding her eyes once more.

Her mother smiled gently and brushed the drops from her cheeks. “I know darling. I’m just so thankful to be able to hold you once more. You have no idea what it’s like having your heart torn away from you.” Her own voice finally betrayed the calm demeanour and she pulled Catlyn close once more.

“So much has happened Mum. You have no idea,” she murmured into her shoulder.

She laughed as she pushed Catlyn away and cupped her face with her hands. “My daughter the Inquisitor! I have to know how that happened. Must I call you ‘Your Worship’ now?” she teased.

“Yes and I expect you to bow and curtsy as well,” she sniffed primly.

Her mother laughed a rich, earthy sound. “I shall practice daily, Your Worship. But now, we need tea and a seat. I want to hear about your great adventure and who exactly this Elder One is that wants me only child dead.”

Catlyn cast her a dark look as she went to the fire to set some water to boil. “I have the worst possible luck Mum, I swear it.”

The pair spent the better part of the afternoon holed up in Catlyn’s chambers undisturbed as she recounted what had taken place since the Conclave. Her mother never would have believed it had she not been able to see the mark for herself.

“Herald of Andraste,” she mused. “You know how I feel about the Chantry and its lore and even I find it difficult not to be persuaded.”

Catlyn grimaced. “Please, of all people I need your rationality. It could have been her,” she sighed resignedly. “Truth is, I really don’t recall much from the Conclave. Not enough to believe it completely myself anyway.”

“Faith means something different to everyone, little lamb,” she replied simply. “But now, what finally changed your mind? Why send for me now? And my research- surely that’s what you meant in your message, but I can’t understand the link.”

“Cullen- Commander Cullen, I should say,” Catlyn’s face reddened slightly. “He’s a former Templar. Maybe you’re more familiar with what happened at Fereldan’s Circle of Magi during the Blight and then Kirkwall after that. I really wasn’t,” she sighed. “He was present for both events.”

“I’ve heard the stories. Terrible times, for certain. The Commander does carry himself like a Templar, though I didn’t detect his presence so strongly.”

“Detect his presence? What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled.

“After years of working with and around the substance I began to recognize lyrium and those who took it. You can detect a Templar easily as a result. I believe mages make that same connection.”

“But you’re not a mage,” Catlyn pointed out.

Her mother smiled. “No dear, I’m not. But as I said, I spent many years studying it and its effects. That doesn’t come without its own side effects. So, knowing this, I believe I understand your request. The Commander has stopped taking lyrium.”

“Judging by what he’s told me, he has had less than ten years at full potency. It’s been about a year since he stopped. He suffers from headaches and nightmares and just recently the tremors and spasms have started.”

Her mother raised her eyebrows in surprise. “How remarkable. A year and he is only just now experiencing tremors?”

“I’ve been giving him something. Before Haven fell, the apothecary and I had been working on finding the right proportions and preparation for the elixir you had been working on. We think we’ve found it.”

“Catlyn, I don’t know what to say,” she replied incredulously. “I had no idea you had such an interest, nor did I realize you actually listened when I rambled on.”

Catlyn managed to look somewhat hurt. “I didn’t always ignore you, Mother. Only when I didn’t agree with you,” she grinned widely.

“Which was frequently, as I recall.”

Caltny shrugged. “I was a teenager and clearly knew everything there was to know already.”

Her mother rolled her eyes in exasperation and laughed. “So you asked me to come because you need more help, despite your fear that something might happen to me along the way. Big risk to take. How much does this Commander mean to you?”

Catlyn blushed furiously and cringed under her mother’s gaze. She had an innate ability to see right to the heart of a matter and could read her daughter like an open book. That was apparent now more than ever.

“He is a key part of the Inquisition. Without him, our troops wouldn’t be nearly as strong. We can’t lose him now.”

“And that’s your only motivation?”

Catlyn hesitated. There really was no use hiding it. “Maybe not the only one,” she conceded.

Her mother looked at her thoughtfully. “I see,” she answered. “You realize the risk involved, do you not?”

“Yes,” Catlyn replied softly. “It doesn’t change anything though. It’s a greater risk to let him go untreated. If there is a cure, anything at all that will help, I think it’s worth the chance.”

After a brief silence, her mother continued. “In that case I have quite a bit of work ahead of me. I will need supplies, more than what I brought with me. Do you have ways to-”

She was cut off as the door to Catlyn’s chambers burst open and someone came charging up the stairs, startling the two women. They looked over to see Dorian appear looking rather out of sorts.

“I’m terribly sorry for the interruption but I needed to see for myself whether the rumours were indeed true. I couldn’t imagine my closest friend keeping something so important as the existence of her mother, the most important person in the world to her- next to myself, of course- a secret.”

Catlyn grimaced. She knew she was going to have to face the music sooner rather than later.

“Dorian, this is Professor Helena Damerell, my mother. Mother, this is-”

“Dorian Pavus of Tevinter, Skyhold as of late. The pleasure is mine, Professor,” he swooped over and took her hand, bowing deeply. “Regrettably I’ve only heard anecdotes about you and up until just recently assumed you were dead. I am confounded, to say the least.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Pavus,” she replied graciously. “I believe we share a similar fate, as up until today I wasn’t even sure my daughter was still alive, let alone that she had such a handsome Tevinter friend. If you’ll forgive my ignorance, I will gladly do the same.”

“Exceptionally beautiful and with good taste! Tell me, Professor: do you enjoy chess and wine?”

“I do, though not in that order.”

“Splendid!” Dorian clapped. “We shall have to set a date at once. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should return to the rest of the plebs where I will no doubt learn of news along with the rest of Skyhold’s second tier denizens.”

“Dorian,” Catlyn started, feeling extremely guilty for having kept her friend in the dark.

“No need to explain darling, I understand well enough. Good evening ladies,” he bowed with a flourish and disappeared down the steps.

Catlyn sunk her head and groaned. “Andraste’s soiled knickers,” she swore. “He is so mad at me.”

“Language Catlyn,” her mother chided. Her tone softened slightly. “It will pass, little lamb. If he’s as good a friend as he claims, he will understand.”

“I hope so,” she mumbled miserably. She had never meant to hurt anyone and now it appeared as if everyone was upset with her.

“He certainly is a handsome man,” her mother mused. “Does your relationship with him not cause tension with the Commander?”

Catlyn snorted. “It did at first. Until he realized that I lacked certain parts that were critical to Dorian’s interest. To be honest, sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t be the one that’s jealous of their friendship.”

“Really?” she replied innocently. “I have the worst time guessing people’s romantic persuasions.”

“How could you ever guess after only a brief encounter?”

“Oh I don’t know,” she sighed. “It’s more just a general observation. Some of my closest colleagues and friends at the university had the same preferences and it wasn’t until your father kindly pointed out to me that any attempts I made to set them up were doomed from the start.”

Catlyn laughed. “Good thing you were there to research lyrium withdrawal and nothing else.”

“Clearly,” she agreed, smiling.

They sat in comfortable silence for a time before Catlyn spoke. “It’s getting late. We should get something to eat before we miss the evening meal. You must be starving.”

“I’m exhausted more than anything else. The escort that was sent was very respectful but he was obviously determined to get here as quickly as possible. I haven’t ridden in years and do believe that I will be waddling for weeks,” she winced as she shifted in her seat.

“Ok. Food first, rest after. Maybe a bath before? I can have that taken care of.”

“That would be lovely.” 

“Tomorrow I’ll introduce you to everyone and take you for a tour.” Her mother nodded in agreement and the pair got up to go to the grand hall. Just before the stairs, her mother reached out for her and held her arm.

“Catlyn, whatever your reasons for bringing me here, I want you to know I’m grateful. These past months had been some of the darkest for me. It’s unnatural for a parent to outlive their child. When I received your reply, it was as if dawn had broken over the barren, frozen wasteland that was my heart and I’ve been living in constant anxiety ever since. It was hard to get any kind of information back in Antiva that would pacify me. I would gladly risk my life to be closer to you, to see with my own eyes that you’re safe.”

“I know Mum. I’m so sorry for putting your through that. I can’t promise it will be much better here. I’m away often. But you’ll receive more reports through Leliana than otherwise and I will rest knowing you’re safe.”

The two smiled and held each other tightly once more before Catlyn pulled away and motioned to the stairs. “Come on, let’s eat. I taught the cook how to butcher a mean druffalo steak that will blow your mind.”

Her mother’s warm laughter filled her heart as they descended the stairs to supper.


	35. Setting It Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After avoiding her, Catlyn corners Cullen and explains herself.

“She swore you to secrecy?” Cassandra demanded. Leliana nodded in reply. Following the Inquisitor’s mother’s arrival, she had spent the next little while debriefing Cassandra, Josephine and Cullen on the events surrounding the woman’s presence.

“I always knew she was hiding something,” the Spymaster added smugly.

“It’s hardly a skeleton though,” Cullen pointed out.

“True, but she was right to be scared. Given their unique bond, Maker only knows how she would have reacted should anything have happened to her mother. That was a risk to the Inquisition. She’s better off here where we can protect her.”

“Who was the man she arrived with?” Josephine asked. “I didn’t recognize him.”

“One of my covert field agents. I never bring him in unless absolutely necessary. We didn’t want to draw any attention to them so I had them pose as a mother and son travelling to visit family. The Inquisitor provided me with a cryptic letter even I couldn’t decipher that would convince her mother to travel with him. She also sent a sizeable sum of money, presumably to cover the cost of replacing her mother at the bookstore.”

The room was silent as each person considered what had transpired.

“I still don’t understand why she didn’t tell us,” Cassandra complained, the initial shock having worn off only to be replaced with hurt. No one offered a response as they all harboured similar wounds.

“It seems no one knew she was still alive. At least we were all equally ignorant,” Leliana pointed out.

“I must begin preparations for suitable living arrangements right away. Really, Leliana, you couldn’t have given me any indication at all?” Josephine scolded her friend before taking her leave. Cassandra followed, leaving Cullen and Leliana alone.

“You’re very quiet, Commander.” Cullen looked up at the woman, unsure of what to say. He really wasn’t even sure how he felt himself. None of them had been lied to. They chose to interpret the Inquisitor’s silence on the matter to be a form of self-preservation. Maker knew she had endured enough already without having to pick at covered wounds. Still, he had trouble shaking the feeling that she hadn’t trusted any of them enough to share this secret with. That hurt most of all.

“I wish I understood the need for secrecy,” he sighed.

“We all have our reasons, Commander. Jealousy, guilt, shame. I suspect in her case it was fear.”

“Fear of what? It wouldn’t have changed anything for us. We would have respected her privacy.”

“I believe it had more to do with no one being able to extract from us what we don’t know. Protecting her mother is obviously of great importance to her and she’s risked many relationships in doing so. Perhaps we owe her forgiveness, after everything she’s done for us.”

Cullen stood rubbing the back of his neck. The Spymaster’s argument seemed reasonable. But perhaps the initial shock still lingered and he wasn’t ready just yet to process things rationally.

“Thank you, Leliana. If you’ll excuse me, I should get back to work.” Leliana tipped her head in reply as Cullen made his way out of the War Room.

It was early afternoon and the training yard was full. Everywhere he went he could hear whisperings about the stranger’s arrival. He was shocked at some of what he heard and began to appreciate Catlyn’s fear a little more. In places like these, word travelled fast and rumours spread like wildfire. There were very few places one could speak in private, aside from the War Room whose thick walls and enchantments prevented the escape of information.

A lieutenant came jogging up to him, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Ser.”

“Yes lieutenant. What is it?” Cullen replied, stopping.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Is it true, Ser, that the Inquisitor’s secret Antivan lover is here to win her back?”

“What? Maker’s breath man,” he swore in exasperation. “Where have you heard this foolishness? Clearly the soldiers have too much idle time on their hands to be passing around such salacious gossip. If a soldier isn’t on patrol, I want every last one of them either working with Gatsi on fortifications and repairs or in the sparring ring. Master Dennett also needs a hand mucking out the stables. If I hear one more whispering about the Inquisitor and her _mother _,” he raised his stern voice loud enough for anyone around to hear him, “I will personally see to it that they are sent on the next relief squadron to the Fallow Mire. Is that clear?”__

“Yes Ser!” the lieutenant saluted smartly and trotted off quickly, barking orders to anyone standing around watching.

Cullen swore under his breath and stormed over to his office, slumping down at his desk in frustration. He fought back the disappointment he felt and tried to understand why Catlyn might have felt unable or unwilling to share this with him. He trusted her completely- wasn’t that what relationships were built on? But what else might she be keeping from him? She had mentioned once before about the Crows having no similar vow of chastity as the Templars did. Not that it mattered- he had taken no such vows himself. But might there have been someone else important to her that she was choosing to protect? He still found it hard to believe that she could care for someone as broken as he. What if he were merely a distraction? Was someone else waiting in the wings?

He shook his head and reminded himself that this wasn’t about him, but he couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t understand where she drew the line between privacy and secrets and what that meant for their relationship. Confused and unsure, he threw himself into his work.

\----

Cullen trudged up the stairs from the barracks towards his office. He had eaten with the soldiers again. Not only was it good for morale, but it allowed him a convenient excuse to miss the main dining hall. He had been avoiding Catlyn since her mother arrived. He hadn’t really meant to and a part of him felt quite guilty for his poor behaviour. He just wasn’t sure how to reconcile his feelings and needed more time to wrap his head around things.

He entered his office which was dim but still illuminated by a lantern one of his soldiers had left for him and the tail end of the twilight pouring in through the windows. He made his way over to his desk and slumped down on the chair and paused for a moment. What was he most hung up about, he wondered? On the one hand, he understood her need to protect her family. He wasn’t so sure he would act differently if it had been Mia or someone else that had been in danger. But he was hurt that she couldn’t confide in him and it left him wondering what else she might be holding back. They had all trusted her up until now and this revelation was hardly deceitful in a malicious way. Varric had pulled off something similar when Hawke suddenly appeared. He remembered Catlyn’s reaction at first and how it had softened, giving way to understanding. Now it made even more sense than before: she was harbouring a similar secret. Was that the only one?

Suddenly she appeared sitting on the edge of his desk right in front of him, nearly causing him to jump out of his seat in fright.

“Maker’s breath!” he cried as he gripped the chair arms to keep him from being knocked over. She cast him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry Commander. I didn’t mean to scare you. But I figured since you have been avoiding me, this might be the only way to catch you for a moment.”

As his heart rate slowed and the panic subsided, he relaxed back into the seat once more. “I suppose I have been, haven’t I?”

“I don’t blame you,” she said meekly. “I won’t force you to talk to me if you don’t want to, but I wanted the chance to explain myself. I feel I owe you at least that, especially after how I acted so poorly when my mother first arrived.”

Cullen sat back and stared at her, considering his options. “I believe you have a right to set the record straight,” he conceded. The truth was he really did want to know why she had withheld the information. He just wasn’t sure he knew what to say in response.

Catlyn inhaled deeply and uncrossed her legs and fidgeted, nervously stroking her left palm. “At first I was reluctant to mention anything because I didn’t know you all very well. I dropped out of the sky with a mild case of amnesia and was immediately branded a criminal. If that doesn’t inspire distrust, I don’t know what does,” she smiled lopsidedly. “Then when I realized what was going on, I wanted to keep my identity as vague as possible for fear that word would reach the Crows. You can’t imagine what they do to deserters. I figured they knew who my mother was and that if they thought me dead, they wouldn’t have any reason to want to go after her.”

“Everyone knew you were an Antivan Crow. Couldn’t they have just figured out that the Herald of Andraste was you?”

“I wasn’t the only Crow there. Aside from Gaspar, there were a few other members from our crew. It could have been one of them.” Cullen nodded and she continued. “As time went on and I became more involved in the Inquisition, I started to fear that any one of the Inquisition’s enemies might want to get to us by using bait. She struck me as an obvious target. If no one knew about her, then no one could abuse her.”

“We never would have betrayed her,” he replied, somewhat hurt by her lack of confidence in them.

Catlyn smiled sadly. “I know that, Cullen. Please know that I believe you would never do anything to hurt me or the ones I love. It wasn’t so much that I believed you would lie or deceive me,” she paused and looked at him thoughtfully. “You know what it’s like to be tortured, don't you? One of the things Crows are trained to do is to withstand torture techniques. It’s part of basic training. Gaspar had introduced me a little bit but generally shielded me from the worst of it. I never went through the real trials myself, but I watched some of them. It’s amazing what skilled torturers can make you divulge. In my wild imagination, I saw us falling to any number of villainous people capable of committing such atrocities. What you don’t know, you can’t divulge.”

Cullen’s memories of Kinloch were vivid enough for him to imagine what that might be like to endure. In fact, his nightmares reminded him on a regular basis. He swallowed hard and nodded his head for her to continue.

“Then it just became a force of habit. So far nothing had happened to her so I thought my strategy was working. At times I considered sending for her just to have her closer, but when Leliana was betrayed I was convinced she was best kept safe where she was. Then your condition started to worsen and I knew there was only one chance of helping you, so I asked Leliana to help me get her here. As soon as I made the decision, I started to worry about how everyone would react. I know you feel betrayed- that I should have said something sooner. I can never change my decisions and truth be told, if I had to do it again I probably wouldn’t change a thing. I did what I did knowing what I knew and what I felt was the best decision to keep her safe. I told you once before, I have no place for regret in my life, but I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I can’t even begin to express how deeply sorry I am and I will understand if you’re unable to forgive me.” He could see the apprehension on her face as she finished.

Cullen considered her words. He could see it in her face that she felt remorseful and he could hardly blame her for wanting to protect the person she loved most in the world. The seed of doubt had been planted though and like a weed, it was stubborn in its growth.

“I can appreciate that it was a difficult decision to make. I realize your mother means the world to you.” He struggled to articulate what it was exactly that was bothering him. “Perhaps I’m overreacting when I say this, but you come from a world of secrets and veils. How much of that is a part of who you are and how much of it is just the craft? I guess what I’m asking is: is there anything else that you’re not telling me?”

“Anything else? What could I possibly be hiding? No, that’s not fair,” she quickly retracted. “I have lost the right to hold your trust. I get that. I’m not sure I can ever convince you otherwise, but I swear to you on all the honour I have- as a Crow, as Inquisitor, as a decent human being- that I have nothing further to hide. You already know the only other secret I have. I hope that shows you how much I care for you, how much I trust you.”

Cullen hesitated. “No other love of your life hidden in some deep dark corner of Thedas?” The question seemed so silly the second it rolled off his tongue and he felt immediately embarrassed for even asking it. “What I mean is, there isn’t anything else that you care for that you feel the need to hide?”

“Anyone else? Who could there possibly be?”

Cullen rubbed his face. What was he hoping to find out? “I’m a broken man falling apart at the seams. You are leading a movement that will shape the future of Thedas. I can’t help but wonder why you would even choose to care for me in the first place. I suppose this nagging doubt has just been enhanced by the feeling that you might be hiding something else. I don’t know what, I can’t even imagine. It seems silly as I speak it out loud, but there you have it. I believe a relationship should be built on trust and it hurts to know that you kept this from me, even though the rational part of my brain completely understands and sees nothing that needs to be forgiven.”

“Cullen, it’s because I care so much for you that I risked my mother’s life to bring her here. She means more to me than anyone ever has- up until now,” she added shyly.

“I… suppose I hadn’t really thought of it that way,” he conceded.

She slipped down from the desk and knelt before him, resting her hands on his knees. “If I could erase this pain I would. If you’ll let me, I will do whatever I can to show you that I am worthy of your trust, just as you are worthy of my feelings for you. I will spend every last day showing you how wonderful you are and how fortunate I am to have met you. You have an inner resolve that people should strive for and strength of character that is a model for all to behold. I admire and respect you more than I care to admit,” she grinned. Cullen let out a short laugh in response.

“You are the one who should be admired. I’m in awe of everything you’ve done. Anyone else would have crumbled under the weight of the responsibility you carry. It’s a burden you shouldn’t have to bear alone.”

“I don’t feel alone when I’m with you,” she whispered. “If you’ll continue to have me, of course.”

He reached down and cupped her face gently in his hands. He gently stroked her cheek as he bowed down, pausing just above her lips. “It would be an honour to be by your side,” he murmured as he kissed her, gently at first, then more passionately as she reciprocated and wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled her up into his lap and she straddled him, her hips settling on his. As their mouths intertwined, he could feel his own heat building and he reluctantly pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re bewitching,” he breathed.

“I’m yours,” she replied, her voice husky. He smiled and continued to hold her, willing his heart to slow down. This wasn’t the moment he would have chosen to take things any further. His mind was still swimming with thoughts, though they were considerably lighter than they had been earlier. Sensing his hesitation, she pulled back slightly and rested on his lap, her fingers still twined in his curls. 

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“It’s much better now,” he smiled. “I’m glad you cornered me this evening, even though you near gave me a heart attack. Blasted rogues,” he grumbled. 

She laughed and ran her thumb over his cheek. “You should see the manner of tricks I have up my sleeve,” she purred suggestively.

“Temptress,” he growled and the pair laughed foolishly at each other. “So I suppose I should make an effort to get to know your mother, shouldn’t I?” he asked.

“I think she would like that. I know I would.”

“Have you said anything to her? About us?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“My mother can read me like an open book, Cullen. I literally opened my mouth and said your name and she was practically writing a sonnet about us,” she rolled her eyes in reply. Cullen chuckled in response.

“I suppose I should take lessons from her then.”

“Please don’t. Maybe I should rethink the need to keep some secrets.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, grasping her firmly by the sides and eliciting a warm laugh from her. “Can you introduce us properly then in the morning?”

“Of course,” she replied. “You’ll have quite a bit of time to get to know one another. She is here to help you, after all. I am also leaving for the Hinterlands soon to see what I can do about procuring some supplies for her.”

“What kind of supplies?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. She promised me a list tomorrow. I know among the items she needs are things can be procured from the merchants at Redcliffe. I may end up elsewhere as well but I might as well start somewhere.”

Cullen wasn’t thrilled about the notion of Catlyn being absent again but he had gotten used to it by now. The thought of having her mother available instead was intriguing. He knew so much and yet so little about her, and he was curious to get to know her himself. 

“Best get to bed then. You’ll need all the rest you can get before your journey.”

“Now I have two of you worrying about me,” she mumbled through a grin as she leaned in to kiss him once more. After a moment she finally pulled away and got up to go. “So you’ll come back to the grand hall for meals then?” she asked with a smirk.

“Save me a seat,” he replied with a smile. Catlyn laughed and waved as she left to return to her chambers. Cullen remained seated a moment longer, considering their exchange. He felt very much at ease now that they had a chance to put everything out in the open. For once he felt his confidence returning and marveled at how easily the two of them fit together. Despite their missteps, he began to believe that they had a chance of surviving whatever might be thrown their way. The thought blanketed him that night as he fell into a dreamless sleep.


	36. Last Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn finally corners Dorian.

Catlyn sighed in frustration and sat on Dorian’s alcove perch. No matter what she tried, the elusive mage avoided her. She had no idea how someone who attracted so much attention could suddenly become so inconspicuous. She was tempted to approach Fiona to see if there was such a thing as an invisibility spell- and more importantly, one to counter it- but she felt awkward bothering her with a personal matter.

She had spoken with her other companions and they all either accepted her apology or understood without any need for forgiveness. Blackwall had been the most understanding of all; Bull wanted a drink as compensation; Josephine begged never to spring surprise guests on her like that again; and Cassandra was surprisingly forgiving. Catlyn figured she had Varric to thank for that: he had already broken her in with Hawke’s mysterious arrival. It seemed Cassandra was getting used to secrets and surprises.

Catlyn gave up and wandered around Skyhold, her feet finally bringing her to the Herald’s Rest. Seeing Varric at the bar, she decided to drown her sorrows with some company.

“This seat taken?” she asked, not waiting for an answer before slumping down on the stool beside him.

“As a matter of fact, I was waiting for someone tall and beautiful with a great smile on her face. Any ideas where I might find her?”

“Ha ha Varric,” she rolled her eyes and motioned for Cabot to fill a glass for her.

“Your face is as blue as a raincloud, Snips. Sure does suck when everyone’s mad at you,” he cast her a knowing smirk. “I thought everyone had forgiven your little secret?”

“It’s not fair,” she complained. “I was upset with you for all of five minutes. How is it that someone can stay mad at me for days? I’m twice as good-looking as you are and far sweeter.”

“And you saved our asses more than once, might I add. Life’s not fair, is it?” he chuckled as Catlyn grunted in a most unladylike way. “Who's still holding a grudge?”

“Dorian,” she muttered. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Ah yes, Sparkler can hold out for a while. Just ask Tiny,” he laughed. Catlyn looked over at him quizzically but was too caught up in her own misery to take much note. “Threaten to cut off his book allowance and maybe you’ll get somewhere.”

“I don’t want to threaten him with anything. I just want the chance to explain myself. He doesn’t even have to say anything, though I prefer he would,” she added.

“Helpless, alone, confused. The hurt is loud. Never fit in at home, never fit in here. Only with her was there a match and now it is gone.” Cole had suddenly appeared beside her, sitting on the counter.

“Cole! Maker have mercy, remember what I said about sneaking up on people,” Catlyn gasped. She had gotten used to his presence around Skyhold but his sudden appearances and disappearances still set her on edge.

“Where will I go, where will I turn. Alone again.”

Catlyn frowned. “Who are you talking about, Cole?”

“The mage. The one with the nice hair. He’s full of pain but he won’t let me help. I could- help him. He doesn’t need to feel so much hurt all the time. It’s loud.”

Catlyn perked up in her chair. “You know where Dorian is? Can you show me?”

“But you are what causes the pain,” he looked at her doubtfully. “He thought you trusted him, made him feel safe and at home. Now he’s confused and hurt.”

Catlyn’s heart broke so completely she was sure the noise it made could be heard across Skyhold. She even saw Cole flinch.

“I want to make it better, Cole. I can help. Can you help me help him?”

He seemed unsure at first, but slowly he began to nod in agreement. “Yes… I see that now. He is hiding in the tower- the one you are making the home for mages. He doesn’t like it there, thinks it’s just another prison. But it’s quiet and empty, which is how he feels.”

“Thank you, Cole, you’re a life-saver!” Catlyn bounded from her seat and raced for the stairs.

“Hey, you’re not sticking me with the bill are you?” Varric called out after her.

“Put it on my tab!” she yelled back as she raced up the stairs. From down below she heard Sera’s voice pop up. “Did I hear a tab?” she piped.

Catlyn raced across the battlements through the watch towers until she reached the largest of them all, the one she had identified as being the new mages’ headquarters. She was determined to earn their trust in her quest to find common ground between the Circles of old and their self-governance, and so had offered them safe haven in which to rebuild. They had yet to begin reconstruction and repairs but scaffolding and other equipment had been brought in as work was completed elsewhere. To be safe, Catlyn cloaked herself. She didn’t want to give Dorian the chance to steal away before she had the chance to catch him.

“Honestly, Catlyn, you can’t possibly think I can’t see you,” he announced as she neared the top of the ladder. Grunting, she poked her head up and over the ledge, uncloaking herself in the process.

“You won’t run, will you?”

“And where, pray tell, may I go? This is, after all, a tower with only one entrance that you are currently blocking. I’m a necromancer, not a shape-shifter, so unless you know of another way down, I believe my passage is blocked.”

Catlyn sighed and pulled herself up the rest of the way. She didn’t know where else to begin other than to say, “I’m sorry Dorian. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I kept the knowledge from everyone hoping it would keep her safe. She means everything to me and I would risk it all again if it would guarantee her well-being.”

Dorian was silent at first. “That’s a bond I never knew with my parents. I’m touched by your loyalty to her,” he answered sadly. “My parents couldn’t accept me for who I was. It didn’t fit their perfect mold. Then my best friend changed into a man I barely recognized. After that I found myself running from my country and people not really knowing where I was going but knowing for certain that anywhere I went, I would be a social outcast.” His voice went soft, barely a whisper. “Then I met you and for the first time in a long time, I sensed a feeling of belonging. Of trust. And most of all, acceptance.”

Catlyn closed her eyes in despair. How many people had she hurt exactly? She had no idea she had this kind of impact on people. The responsibility alone made her feel at once both honoured and afraid. Afraid that so much hung in the balance and it was her actions that could tip it one way or the other. When she barely knew what she was doing half the time, the risk of sending anyone into a deep, dark place frightened her beyond words.

Dorian looked at her apologetically. “I’ve since realized that you had an enormous decision to make and it was unfair of me to expect that you would risk someone who had been in your life forever to assuage my fears. Instead of offering you support as you have done for me countless times before, I selfishly thought only of how you couldn’t feel you could trust me, when in essence it had nothing to do with me at all. You were right to keep it to yourself. Maker knows our enemies would have found a way to exploit it.”

“Dorian, you will always have a place in my heart. It was torture not being able to say anything to you. I don’t want any secrets between us.”

“I know that darling,” he smiled. “It makes me love you even more.”

“Sentimentality! How unlike you Dorian,” she teased, trying to ease the tension. 

“Yes well, no need to go repeating that now, yes?”

Catlyn chuckled and stood close to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m really glad you get to meet her. My mother is the most wonderful person in the world. She’ll adore you.”

“Of course she will. What’s not to love?”

“I see self-pity didn’t last too long,” she nudged him with her elbow.

“Goodness no, who could ever like a whining, self-deprecating embarrassment of a man? I have appearances to maintain.”

Catlyn laughed deeply as the two stood staring out over the valley below. After a moment, she said, “You know Dorian, I’m not the only one who believes you to be a friend. Now that Cullen better understands your intentions, he’s grown very fond of you. Varric also sticks up for you.”

“Varric is friends with everyone. That hardly marks him as having good taste or sound judgment.”

“All the same,” she replied. “What about Bull?”

“What about him,” he said, shifting nervously.

“I think he considers you a friend.”

“When he’s not snogging some bar wench,” he muttered under his breath.

Catlyn smirked. Bull had developed a certain reputation for himself. “What do his extracurricular activities have to do with being your friend?”

“Nothing at all, merely an observation regarding his virility,” he brushed her off evasively. “It’s not nearly as warm as I thought and my hair is starting to stiffen. Might we retreat to a more comfortable setting?”

“We wouldn’t want your hair to suffer,” Catlyn replied, her face a mask of serious concern.

“Don’t you sass me young lady,” he wagged his finger at her. “My good looks are what have carried me this far. That and my charm and prowess in battle, obviously, but nonetheless. I will not put either at risk and already I know I’m going to be dragged around the countryside over the next few weeks forced to live in the most inhospitable conditions. No need to start that now.”

“I could always send you to Val Royeaux with Vivienne on official Inquisition business,” she offered. “The accommodations there are much better.”

“I thought you said you loved me?” he replied with a pained expression. “No bed is worth putting up with that pompous bitch.”

Catlyn slapped his shoulder in mock anger and suppressed a grin. “Be nice, Dorian.”

“That’s no fun. Come, before we freeze to the floor.”

\---  
Catlyn studied the list. “All of these things? I have to get everything on this list? I’m not even sure half of these are real,” she shook her head in disbelief.

Her mother chuckled. “I assure you they exist and are all needed.”

“I suppose it’s not as bad as Viv’s request,” Catlyn sighed.

“What does Madam de Fer seek?”

“The heart of a snowy wyvern.”

“Really?” her mother’s eyebrow shot up. “Did she say what for?”

“No. Something personal.”

“Interesting,” she furrowed her brow pensively.

Catlyn perused the list once more. “A silver pendant charm? Really, what could you possibly need that for to cure Cullen?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t?” Catlyn was surprised by her response.

“No. But you asked me to leave immediately in the cloak of night, bringing only essentials. Had I known how many nobles would be here, how many gatherings I may need to attend, I would have at least packed a bit of jewelry with me,” she shrugged as if her request was simple and obvious.

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense,” she replied. Catlyn stared quizzically at her mother for a moment. “I didn’t know vanity was something that preoccupied you, Mother.”

She sniffed in reply. “Social gatherings were normal at the university my dear. It was in Orlais, after all. While I’m not overly concerned with an outrageous display of style or wealth, especially since I have neither, I know how important it is to keep up appearances. Haven’t Leliana and Josephine taught you that yet?”

“They’ve tried,” Catlyn grumbled.

“They’re wise, you know. There’s no need to fight them on this.”

“You’ve barely been here a few days and already you’re an expert on the matter?” Catlyn threw her hands up in exasperation.

“It doesn’t take an expert to see the obvious, little lamb.”

Catlyn sighed loudly and fixed her mother with a sullen glare. Some things never changed. “Ok, one charm coming up. Any other requests?”

“Everything is on the list.”

“Alright then. I had better get going, it’s getting on in the day.”

“I’ll walk down with you.”

The two women made their way down to the stables where Blackwall and Bull were engaged in a quiet conversation, while Dorian was off to the side busily adjusting his packs, which seemed lighter and smaller than usual.

“What’s this now?” Catlyn inquired, bouncing one of the packs up and down gently with one hand. “Usually you’re begging me to save you some space in my own carriers.”

Dorian’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Never again will I need your assistance, Inquisitor,” he declared proudly.

“I wouldn’t speak too soon, Dorian,” Blackwall piped up. “She’s saved all our hides more times than we could have imagined.” Dorian rolled his eyes at the Grey Warden as the others smiled in agreement.

“Alright, fess up Dorian,” Catlyn demanded, crossing her arms in front of her. “What little trick have you dreamt up?”

“You have our dear clever dwarf to thank for this. Enchanted packs. They can carry three times the contents at a fraction of the weight.”

“Really?” Catlyn leaned over to peek under the flap of one of the packs. “That’s extraordinary!”

“You have a dwarf among your ranks?” her mother inquired eagerly. “Catlyn, why didn’t you say so before?”

Catlyn looked back at her, puzzled. “I didn’t know you would be so interested.”

“Where might I find this dwarf?” her mother asked excitedly.

“I would be pleased to introduce you,” Cullen offered, approaching the group.

Catlyn’s mother turned to face the man. “I would be most grateful, Commander,” she replied graciously. “Surely you have more important business to attend to other than to escort me around Skyhold. If someone could merely point me in the right direction, I’m sure I could find my way.”

“It’s no bother, Professor. I would be happy to introduce you to Dagna. I’m sure she will be thrilled to have someone to discuss her inventions with.”

“Thank you Commander,” she inclined her head in recognition. “At your earliest convenience, I would be much obliged.”

“As soon as the party gets on their way, I will take you.”

“Bloody blight,” Catlyn muttered. “I see everyone is eager for us to be on our way.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Cullen quickly protested.

“Just giving you a hard time, Commander,” Catlyn smiled lopsidedly at him. He returned her look with a smirk of his own and Catlyn nearly melted. She looked forward to the routine of Cullen sending her off whenever she left Skyhold, but wished the rest of the onlookers would be swallowed up into the Void so that she could be alone with him for a moment.

“May I?” he offered her his hand to mount her horse. She accepted and he pulled her into him gently before she hoisted herself up onto her charger. The smell of polished metal and his clean-shaven face filled her as he leaned down, his lips barely brushing her skin as he whispered in her ear. “You know I’ll be miserable while you’re gone,” he admonished her, teasing her with his closeness. 

She looked back up over her shoulder, letting his lips brush her forehead ever so softly. She couldn’t find the words to adequately describe the pain she felt whenever she said goodbye, knowing that it could be for the last time. “It’s no easier for me,” she replied. “Take care of my mother for me, please?”

He nodded solemnly at her and squeezed her hand before she lifted herself up into the saddle. She looked down at her mother one last time and smiled at her reassuringly before nudging her horse into a walk towards the gates. As they walked away, she heard her mother ask, “Does this ever get any easier?” As the distance grew, she heard Cullen faintly reply, “Never.”


	37. A Glimpse into the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen spends time with Professor Damerell while the Inquisitor scours the Hinterlands for supplies. What he learns is very enlightening.

Professor Damerell’s addition to the Inquisition ranks was pleasant to say the least. The more the advisors spent time with her, the more they realized how much alike the mother-daughter duo was. But whereas the Inquisitor had a certain resentfulness for everything too noble or class-driven, her mother looked fit to be an empress. She had a calm, reassuring quality about her that exuded confidence. She was clearly an intelligent woman and spent quite a bit of time reading in the library that Dorian had so painstakingly built over the past months. It wasn’t long before people were clamouring to sit beside her at the meal tables and she was always seen engaged in talk with everyone from servants to soldiers to mages. Never imposing, she preferred to settle in among the rest and peppered people with insightful questions, genuinely seeming to care about their everyday lives and their thoughts on the Inquisition. 

She did, however, spend a great deal of time with Dagna in the undercroft. The young dwarf was giddier than usual since her arrival and her chattering voice could be heard ringing through the grand hall daily. The professor seemed endlessly patient with her and was often seen carrying various tomes on her daily pilgrimage to the dwarf’s domain.

Though a bit awkward and shy at first, Cullen had attempted to spend as much time as his duties would allow him with Catlyn’s mother. She seemed very interested at first to know more about his time with the Templars, likely to aid her in her research for a cure Catlyn promised him she would find. Before long, she was inquiring about his family, childhood stories, favourite memories, and anything else that seemed to pique her curiosity. It wasn’t until several weeks following Catlyn’s departure for the Hinterlands that he realized the professor was as effective at elusively dodging questions about her own past as her daughter was. Cullen decided to make more of an effort to turn the tables and get to know the professor a little more.

One particularly sunny day, he decided to take a break from the endless reports and went off in search of the professor, hoping to engage her in a game of chess. He had since learned that she was a far better player than her daughter and he hoped that she might be persuaded to take him on. He found her already in the garden, speaking with the elf in charge of the apothecary about the best planting options for the small garden the Inquisitor had requested be sowed. 

“Professor, Elan,” he greeted the women respectfully. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“We were debating the merits of planting certain varieties of plants given the location of the garden bed, Commander,” the professor smiled as he approached. “It’s nothing urgent, nor is it serious. Just a pleasant distraction.”

“I was hoping to entice you with a different distraction, if I may,” he replied, the corner of his mouth upturned in a shy smile. “I hear you are a gifted chess player.”

The professor’s face broke into a beam of light. “I have been known to put up a fight,” she conceded. “Why am I not surprised that a skilled soldier such as yourself would be adept at such a game?”

He laughed in return. “I suppose my skills in battle may come in handy, though I’ll admit my teacher was about as skilled a warrior as I am a cook.”

“Who taught you how to play?”

“My sister, actually. My brother and I spent hours practicing with one another just to be able to beat her one day.” He smiled at the memory.

“And were you successful?”

“I was. It’s a moment I still cherish.”

“Then I hope to do her justice,” she grinned in reply. She bade the elf farewell and followed Cullen over to the gazebo where a table had been permanently set up for that purpose given how much time Dorian and he spent there. He pulled the seat out for her and earned another generous smile in return before sitting down himself and setting up the board.

As they began their match, Cullen made his first move. “So Professor, I understand you are from Fereldan?”

“That’s right,” she replied, concentrating on the board. “I grew up in Denerim. I understand you are also from Fereldan?”

“I grew up in Honnleath with my parents and siblings.”

“What a lovely town. I remember passing through on several occasions. Did you enjoy it there?”

“I did. It was near a lake that I used to frequent to get away from the noise. My siblings were very loud,” he smirked. “It was a peaceful town in general but the lake in particular. I used to sneak away whenever my sisters were stirring up trouble for my brother and I.” As he babbled on, he realized that she had neatly deflected the conversation away from herself. He noted his mistake and concentrated his efforts again. “What of yourself, if I may ask? Did you enjoy growing up in the city?”

The professor looked up at him and smiled. “I never knew otherwise, but it was a pleasant enough living. I often accompanied my father on his travels outside of the city and was exposed to country living that way. There is something peaceful about the countryside for certain, but there is a certain livelihood that comes with being in a city that is invigorating.”

“What did your father do that brought him out of the city?” Cullen asked, getting braver with each attempt at extracting information from her vault.

“My father was a gardener in the palace,” she replied, a smile tugging at her lips. “A very good one at that. He was offered the head position but refused it.”

“Really? That seems an odd thing to do. Would the position not have come with accommodations within the palace and greater pay?” Cullen was intrigued. Most people he knew would jump at the chance to move their station up in life. It was rare that someone turned it down.

“My father was a simple man who enjoyed the simple things in life. To him, so long as one’s family was happy, healthy, and housed, it didn’t matter whether they had titles or great wealth. Richness came with spending quality time with those you love.”

“That’s… a very noble philosophy,” he replied softly. 

“Indeed. Moving into the palace for that level of responsibility would have kept him away from both my mother and I as well the things he loved doing most, which was tending to the gardens, learning about new plants and species, experimenting with cross-pollinations. That is what brought him joy.”

“What of your mother? Did she share this same opinion on happiness?”

The professor smiled. “On the whole, yes. She was perhaps a little less enthusiastic about giving up the additional pay, but she got over it rather quickly. I was young at the time but I still recall their argument the night he came home to announce he had been offered the position and declined it. My mother raged and my father remained so calm and patient. I’ll never forget him looking over at me while she rather passionately explained to him all the reasons that was a foolish decision. He winked at me and sat at the table, hands crossed in his lap, waiting for her anger to subside. And it did- the next day, everything had washed over as if nothing had happened. He was a wise man, my father. He knew my mother’s bark was far worse than her bite.”

“If only we all shared his same wisdom,” Cullen lamented.

“Truly, Commander. It might avoid great a many disagreements, dare I even say wars,” she laughed.

“Did your mother work as well?” he continued to prod, not wanting to lose his momentum.

“She did. She was a housekeeper for several older bachelors, including our neighbour, Brother Genitivi.”

“Brother Genitivi? As in the famous historian?”

“The one and only,” she inclined her head, appreciative that he was at least aware of the man. “He lived only a few houses down from us. My mother cared for him and his house for many years while he was away on travels. She always made sure things were tended to, kept the burglars at bay. I used to accompany her to his house on days when she would go. The arrangement we had was that if I helped her with the cleaning, while she tended to other things like his laundry I was permitted to spend time reading in his endless library. My favourite times were when he was there. He was patient with me, Maker knows why, he didn’t have the best reputation, but he would recount all his adventures and discoveries. I was a rapt student and never would I ever sit so still as when I was listening to him lecture. I must have shown some promise as a student, for it was he who suggested to my parents that they look into scholarships at the University of Orlais. It was a terrible shame what happened to him during the Blight. I’m only thankful that my parents had already passed, for my mother would have been heartbroken by the news.”

Cullen sat and listened to her, completely mesmerized. She had a very calm and soothing voice, but one that commanded presence as well. He had no doubt she had earned her reputation as a popular professor at the university. He couldn’t imagine students finding her anything but enthralling and suspected she could have lectured on the fascinating mating tendencies of nugs and people would have found her captivating. He was so focussed on her that he paid no attention to the board.

“Commander? It’s your turn.”

“Right,” he shook himself and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he considered his next move. “Was it from your father then that you learned so much about medicinal properties of plants?”

“Partly, yes. The rest was from the hours spent reading in Brother Genitivi’s house. He picked up many fascinating tomes on non-magical methods of healing. I would recount all my days’ discoveries with my father over the dinner table and he would take me to the gardens to point out the various plants from the books that he was growing himself.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong Professor, but that wasn’t exactly what you studied at the university, was it? It was more specifically on lyrium withdrawal? How did you come to study that instead of medicine?” 

“You’re correct, Commander. It wasn’t specifically medicine that had me admitted to the university. My parents were Andrastian and so we went regularly to the Chantry to pay our respects. My father was a kind, friendly man, and he developed many relationships with the various Templars who guarded the Chantry. Being the capital and having one of the bigger chantries in Fereldan, many Templars stopped in there on their way to Greenfell. My father took particular interest in those men and women passing through and spoke frequently with the Revered Mother regarding their conditions. It bothered him to see them in such a state and over time I would say it even led to both my parents’ eventual withdrawal from the congregation. They felt it wasn’t right what the Order did to the people who swore their lives to serve and protect. Some of their sense of injustice and helplessness transferred to me at a young age and I found myself drawn towards finding a cure for the madness and infliction they succumbed to.”

Cullen considered her words for a moment as he pondered his next move. “It seems as if you and your family had a certain respect for Templars.”

“We did. The ones we encountered in Denerim were always proud and just. The Chantry has also been good to me over the years. Especially following the events surrounding my expulsion from the university, were it not for the kindness of the revered mothers, Catlyn and I would have led a much harder life.” She looked back at him curiously. “Why do you ask?”

Cullen frowned. “When your daughter and I first met, I got the distinct impression she harboured a certain distaste for Templars in general. It seems contradictory to everything you’ve told me.”

The professor hummed in response and narrowed her eyes slightly, considering him for a moment. “I take it Catlyn never spoke of how she met Gaspar?” Cullen shook his head no. “That’s not unusual. She doesn’t like to speak of it with anyone. I only found out because Gaspar explained it to me. When she came to me that night, she was a trembling mess of quiet fury. She had rage in her eyes but more important still, betrayal. I could tell something happened that had hurt her deeply. I of course understand what it is now, but it took some time to piece it all together.”

Cullen hesitated, not sure whether or not it was a betrayal of his own to pry into Catlyn’s history without asking her himself. He was relieved when her mother continued on her own accord.

“I’m not sure Catlyn will ever share this with you herself, but I think it’s important you know. It might help clarify previous actions on her part.” She smoothed her dress out across her lap and set back in the chair. “By adolescence, Catlyn had developed a healthy hatred for the nobility. She blamed her father and his family for everything that I was forced to give up. Though she wasn’t alive when it all occurred, my reputation outside of the university among the common ranks remained very strong and so she heard all about the injustice of it all through various mouths, none of which were mine. I made peace with what happened long before she came into the world, though at times I’ll admit it’s still sore. Catlyn had far more independence than most girls her age: partly because I trusted her implicitly, partly because I knew my daughter well and keeping her on a tight leash would have only led to more trouble. She worked with a rough but honest crew of men at the butchery and Rinaldo kept a good handle on her. We didn’t live far from there and the walk was generally considered safe. She would go through the market district and pass the Chantry on her way to the mercantile quarters where the bookstore was. One night, on her way back from helping Rinaldo, she came across a trio of men in the main square by the Chantry on their way from a party. They were merchants of course, which is akin to nobility in Antiva. They had obviously been imbibing heavily that evening and their judgment was impaired. They saw Catlyn, who at that age was already quite tall and striking, albeit gangly under her garments, and decided to take advantage of a young girl out too late for her own good. One of them grabbed her by the arm and propositioned her. She refused vociferously and pulled a knife on them. It was silly, of course- she had no idea how to use it on a human, her only experience at that point being on carcasses. However, she managed to slash at one of them and draw blood. This only fuelled their desire and they descended upon her like a pack of wolves. As they dragged her down an alleyway, she cried out to the two Templars standing outside of the Chantry on duty to help her. They saw her but simply turned their backs at her. Had Gaspar not been lurking in the shadows and witnessed the event, Maker only knows what would have happened to her.”

Cullen’s mouth had gone dry and the blood pooled at his feet. This explained a great deal and he felt at once enlightened and burdened by the revelation. These were sworn brothers of the Templar order and their actions reflected poorly on them all. It sickened him to think that they were capable of such cruelty, though he knew deep down that many had committed much worse, he among them. “It seems Andraste has been watching out her for longer than we know.”

The professor cocked her head to one side. “Do you believe she is Andraste’s Chosen One?”

Cullen considered her question for a moment. “Perhaps not entirely, no. Catlyn has proven herself to be much stronger than anyone I have ever met and a lot of what she has accomplished has been to her own credit. But there are just some things that I believe require a bit of faith to accept. It also helps to believe that, with everything she faces every time she leaves Skyhold, a higher being is out there watching out for her.”

“I see the benefit of that myself, Commander. She wasn’t wrong when she said it would be harder watching her leave knowing what she was facing than being kept in the dark leagues away. My imagination wouldn’t have come up with even half of what she has faced in reality already.”

Cullen laughed sadly and looked back down at the chess board, letting the silence fill the air. After a moment, he spoke. “I do believe this one is yours, Professor. I hope I was a worthy opponent.”

“I don’t think it was entirely fair, Commander. I distracted you with quite a many stories. Perhaps we could have a rematch another time?” she smiled warmly at him.

Cullen found himself smiling in return, completely caught up in the mother as much as he was the daughter. “I would like that very much, Professor.” She reminded him of the mother he had left behind and he felt a sudden pang of homesickness that he hadn’t experienced in years. 

“Oh and before I forget Commander, I will need your assistance with something regarding your treatment,” she added as she stood to leave.

“Anything, of course.”

“I’ll admit, it isn’t the most pleasant procedure, but it is relatively painless if appropriately administered. I haven’t had to do it in a long time, but I think it will come back to me. That mischievous, foul-mouthed yet very kind little elf procured me some leeches from Maker knows where. We were discussing the many merits of bees when she mentioned she was able to procure any manner of interesting critters. I inquired as to whether she could fetch me some leeches and she nearly knocked me over in her enthusiasm. It appears she hadn’t considered their use for some plans of hers. I was happy to have brought it to her attention and even more satisfied when she agreed to undertake the task. She brought back a jar for me this morning. I have to say, I didn’t quite understand the little messages she decorated the jar with, but as they have no impact on the effectiveness of the leeches it didn’t bother me.”

Cullen was filled with a sudden sense of dread and he groaned inwardly. “You do mean Sera, don’t you?”

The professor’s eyes widened slightly as she watched Cullen’s reaction. “Yes, that’s the one. Nervous little one isn’t she? She also has a terrible mastery of the common tongue. I could barely follow her thoughts when she got really excited, but she was very kind to me and I appreciate enthusiasm in one’s work.”

“I had better go inform Josephine,” he muttered as he stood as well.

“Oh dear, have I done something wrong?” she asked, her face clouding in concern.

“No of course not,” he replied reassuringly. “Sera has a certain reputation for pranks, as it were. We’ve seen spiders, a small snake, and even a squealing nug on the loose in the kitchen. Took hours to convince Cook not to go after her with a meat cleaver. I can only imagine what she might be plotting with leeches.”

“Oh dear,” the Professor chuckled in reply, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m terribly sorry Commander. I had no idea. My dear daughter forgot to mention that little tidbit.”

“Probably because she’s been in on some of the pranks,” he smirked.

The professor laughed harder and openly at that. “I suppose a distraction from all the responsibilities and darkness is needed at times.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he chuckled in response. 

The pair made their way through the garden and to the main hall where they parted as Cullen headed to Josephine’s office and the professor made her way to the undercroft, no doubt to see Dagna. He turned and bowed to her in goodbye and she flashed him a kind-hearted smile in response as she disappeared through the door. He realized he was so distracted by the possibility of Sera’s exploits that he never even bothered to ask what she planned on using the leeches with him for. Master of distraction, he mused to himself. The apple never seems to fall far from the tree.


	38. Don't You Just Love It When Family Drops In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn is paid a visit by a relative. What goes down is both infuriating and triumphant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, this got a bit long. The downside to flipping POV as I move chapters.

Catlyn always felt like she was coming home when the highest peaks of Skyhold came into view, more so than she would have expected of the adopted fortress. Knowing that her mother was safely tucked away inside brought her an even greater sense of comfort and welcoming.

As she and her party approached the main gates, a smile spread across her face breaking into a grin as she saw the outline of her mother standing beside that of the furry pauldroned commander. The pair was waiting for her just inside the courtyard, relief etched on both their faces at her return.

“Inquisitor,” Cullen greeted her formally, his fist clenched above his heart. 

“Commander,” she saluted in reply. “Professor,” she added, addressing her mother with a smile.

“Welcome home Inquisitor,” the woman replied, a smile dancing on her lips. Catlyn was surprised at her use of the word. It seemed her mother had accepted that she would not be returning to Antiva with some seriousness, elsewise she wouldn’t have addressed Skyhold in such a way. “Was your journey successful?”

“It was,” Catlyn answered, swinging down from her mount. “It took us a little longer to find a merchant who could secure us any Amrita Vein, hence the reason for our delay.”

“Don’t lie, Inquisitor. That’s not the only reason,” Dorian accused from behind. She shot him a wicked grin.

“Oh? Was our Inquisitor distracted by other things?” Cullen inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh please do let me recount your exploits, Inquisitor. I long to relive the cherished moments we spent in that primitive backwater that is the Fereldan countryside.”

Catlyn laughed and urged her friend on. “I wouldn’t want to prevent you from sharing your joy, Dorian.”

“When we weren’t busy burrowing our way through some forgotten Deep Roads entrance, sloughing off darkspawn blood and eliminating red lyrium smuggling dwarves, we were off skipping through the countryside looking for a pet ram named Woolsley and adorning graves with flowers for crippled widowers. It was enough to make my fuzzy heart explode with goodness.”

“Sounds like several good deeds were done. I’m surprised your heart didn’t explode much sooner into the process,” Cullen remarked.

“I drew the line at the druffalo herding, Commander. Stayed back at camp for that one. I’m not against ridding Thedas of red lyrium bootleggers but I’m not interested in trying my hand at farming,” Dorian sniffed.

“Don’t be modest Dorian. If it weren’t for your help I’m not sure I would have been able to corral him the rest of the way to the farm. I think the druffalo took a shine to you,” Catlyn smiled sweetly at her friend. She nearly split her sides laughing when the druffalo paused at the Redcliffe Farms camp and sniffed Dorian out of his tent. It had been persistent and Dorian had to flee out of the back to get away from the rutting beast. “Perhaps it had something to do with the smell of your hair product?”

“Venhedis,” he muttered under his breath as he made his way towards the keep, leaving the rest of the snickering group behind. “If you need me, don’t come looking.”

“Somebody’s got their staff shoved up their arse,” Blackwall noted.

“Too many nights sleeping on bedrolls,” Cullen offered helpfully.

“Boss, you gotta tell them about the dragon.”

“Shh Bull, not now,” Catlyn hissed. She knew neither her mother nor Cullen would be suitably impressed with that little side quest.

“What’s this about dragons?” Catlyn could see Cullen’s eyebrow rise to new heights. Perhaps she would be in for less of a scolding if they were out in public. Even he had the decency not to undermine the Inquisitor’s decisions in front of the general populace.

“We found one nesting just north of the Dusklight Camp. Argh, the fire it breathed!” Bull growled in appreciation of the beast’s power. “Ataashi,” he breathed as he stared ahead with a far-off look in his eyes.

“And what exactly did you do with the dragon?”

“We killed it of course,” Bull shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “What else would we do with it?”

“You what?” Cullen exclaimed, his face turning red as he fought to temper his outburst. He turned to face Catlyn and she winced slightly at his look. “You face risk without even trying. Why exactly would you go seeking out further danger?”

“We didn’t exactly seek it out,” Catlyn protested. “Some of the scouts were a bit concerned when the dragon set fire to the ridge just as you come down from the Dusklight Camp. I didn’t want any of them accidentally stumbling into dragon territory unprepared so we thought maybe it would be best to chase it away.”

“Chase it away. You thought you could chase away a dragon,” Cullen replied evenly.

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Catlyn mumbled. “Besides, no one was harmed.”

“Seriously anyway. Might have depleted the camp’s health potions stores but Boss already has the requisition order drawn up to get them replaced,” Bull offered supprtively.

“Not helpful Bull,” Catlyn said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, right. Sorry Boss.”

“Did you scavenge the beast for useful items?” her mother inquired. She had remained silent throughout the exchange and all eyes suddenly turned towards her quiet voice. Catlyn was shocked to hear her mother seem curious more than angry. She thought for sure next to Cullen the scolding of a lifetime would come from her.

“We picked up a number of useful items, yes. Blood, teeth, bones, among other things.”

“How remarkable. Do you have intended uses for them?”

“Well no, not really. I thought I would see whether Haggrit could craft some new weapons or armour and maybe Minaeve might want to take a peek at a couple things. Why do you ask?”

“I would be grateful to examine samples of each, if it’s no trouble. Dagna in particular would be eager to acquire some of the materials for herself.”

“Of course,” Catlyn smiled. “Anything for you.” Her mother inclined her head in recognition.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered to no one in particular. “Am I the only one to see this as a catastrophically bad idea?”

“There’s no changing the past now, Commander. Why not celebrate the success? Bull and I are going for a drink later if you’d care to join us,” Catlyn batted her eyelashes winningly at him. 

“Thank you, but no. I have urgent reports to attend to. But I will have some time before then, if you wish to provide me with a debrief,” he added as Catlyn’s face fell from disappointment. 

“I’ll be by as soon as I’m cleaned up, Commander,” she replied, a smile returning to her lips.

Catlyn and the others parted save for her mother who followed her back up to her quarters. Since she had left, Josephine had a room beautifully restored and her mother had moved into her own private chambers. Her mother sat on the couch and listened to her stories of their latest quests as she sloughed away the thick coating of dust and grime that she had been unable to fully wash off while on the road. The feeling of hot soapy water on her skin felt like bliss.

As she padded back out from her wardrobe wrapped up in a warm robe, her long hair wet and dangling loose around her shoulders, she plopped herself down in front of her mother who set about brushing and taming her messy locks. Aside from Grace, her mother was the only person who ever saw her with her hair down. It wasn’t for any reason in particular other than she found her mane too unmanageable to wear down and was easily distracted by it. As a young girl, she would twine little lengths around her fingers, leaving knotted bits that hurt when her mother would brush her hair in the evenings. She decided there was no better way to end those painful ministrations than by taking away the temptation itself.

“A letter arrived for you while you were gone,” her mother started. Catlyn could tell by the way she spoke that she was hesitant and unsure of how to approach her daughter with the news.

“Lots of letters arrive for me while I’m gone. What was so particular about this one?”

“It was from your great-uncle, Emeric Trevelyan,” her mother replied calmly, continuing to focus on her daughter’s hair. “He wishes to speak to you in person.”

“I have no wish to speak with him,” Catlyn stated firmly.

“You may choose not to speak to him, but he will be here shortly and he will speak to you,” her mother answered just as evenly.

“Why would you defend any of them?” Catlyn demanded, immediately filling with resentment. “They are all one and the same.”

“They are individuals first, Catlyn. Just because they share the same name doesn’t mean they share the same values.”

“Could have fooled me,” she snorted. 

“I understand your anger, little lamb, but there is much more to this than meets the eye. You can’t pretend to know everything that has gone on surrounding the circumstances leading to your father’s departure-”

“Abandonment.”

“Departure,” she insisted, repeating herself. 

“And the destruction of your life as you had built it. Your livelihood, your happiness, everything. It was all because of them. They are all guilty in this together. Any one of them could have done something to stand up to that scheming, devious woman,” she added, the rage bubbling up inside of her like a fresh explosion.

Her mother sighed and continued with her hair. “It’s easy to say that from the other side, but you don’t know what passed between Lady Guinevere and her family. You need to stop being so prejudiced about people just because they share the same name or title. Look at Dorian, for example. If you believed the foolishness that everyone does about Tevinter, you never would have him as your friend. Might I add that you nearly threw away a relationship with Cullen simply because he was once a Templar.”

Catlyn sat brooding. How did her mother know about the start to her relationship with Cullen? She supposed she had left the two alone for several weeks with the rest of her companions around to enlighten her. She was bound to uncover all manner of information.

“The man is travelling a long way just to seek your audience. The least you can do is remain polite and hear him out. If you don’t like what he has to say, so be it. But you can’t refuse him simply because you hold a grudge against his sister-in-law.”

Catlyn remained on the floor pouting as her mother finished braiding her hair. Blast her forgiving ways. Her mother always had been willing to turn the other cheek when it came to confrontations.

“There, all done. I do love the way the Antivans wear their hair. Josephine’s braids are so intricate in pattern, they truly are remarkable.”

“I could have Grace play with yours if you’d like,” she offered. “She would hit the ceiling bouncing from excitement.”

Her mother chuckled in response. “I fear I would just look silly with such an extravagant style in my ageing locks. Simple is better when you get to be my age. Now, shall we see what Donatien has prepared today? He baked a fish in some uncanny salt well that I will never forget.”

\---  
Catlyn stood up on her balcony overlooking the yard below. From where she stood she could just make out the small party approaching along the causeway, the Trevelyan family banner flapping in the wind. She sighed bitterly, resigned to the meeting. Her mother had relentlessly nagged at her until she successfully managed to get Catlyn to promise that she would at least hear what the man had to say before summarily dismissing him back to the Void in which he had crawled from. She was at least thankful that she hadn’t recruited anyone else to her cause. Or perhaps she had but had taken it upon herself to do the convincing, leaving Josephine and the others mercifully out of the debate.

She waited long enough to ensure that the man had arrived within the keep before making her way down to Josephine’s office. She had at least extracted a promise that no official reception be held to receive the man, opting instead to meet privately in the ambassador’s office where most diplomatic dealings were carried out. She felt that to be most appropriate, given what she was about to endure.

She opened the door to the office and found Josephine standing beside a single tall elderly man along with Cullen and Leliana. She noted quickly that her mother sat in a chair in the shadows, presumably waiting for introductions. Despite his age, the man stood tall and proud, reminding her of the way her grandmother had stood when she had greeted them in Ostwick. He had handsome features that were lined with age and short-cropped snowy facial hair. He walked with a cane and she could see that he favoured it considerably, likely a result of the long journey spent on horseback. 

“Inquisitor, so kind of you to join us,” Josephine purred, greeting her with a nervous smile. “May I present to you Lord Emeric Trevelyan, brother to the late Bann Trevelyan, your grandfather. Lord Trevelyan, may I present to you the Herald of Andraste and our Inquisitor.” Josephine looked awkwardly around the room. Catlyn knew how much Josephine struggled with formal introductions given that Catlyn stalwartly refused to use a family name. Even with her mother’s arrival, she had preferred not to use Damerell, which of course had been her name her entire life prior to the events at the Conclave.

“Lord Emeric. I trust your voyage was swift and without trouble,” she greeted him coolly. 

“It was, Your Worship,” he replied, bowing in return. At least the man had manners, Catlyn thought bitterly to herself. “I thank you for agreeing to meet with me despite everything that has transpired between our family.”

“You have my mother to thank for that, my lord,” she answered, nodding her head towards where her mother had surreptitiously made her way to stand beside the other two advisors. Catlyn took great delight in seeing the reaction on the man’s face as he turned over to look at her mother, though the smugness quickly evaporated when he greeted her warmly.

“Professor Damerell, forgive me, I did not see you there. My eyes grow weaker with age, which is the only excuse I can offer for not recognizing you sooner. Your beauty is in no way diminished from whence we met last.”

“You’re too kind, Emeric,” her mother bowed graciously. 

Catlyn’s head whipped back and forth between the pair. “You know each other?”

“Of course we do, Catlyn. He was your father’s favourite uncle after all.”

“It is now you who are too kind, professor,” the elderly man chuckled. “I was his only uncle.”

“Nonetheless, he always spoke very highly of you,” she smiled warmly in return.

“But- how did you meet? I didn’t think you knew any of the other Trevelyans!” Catlyn cried, incredulous. 

“I take it you haven’t told her of your relationship with her father?” Lord Emeric asked the professor hesitantly.

Catlyn’s mother sighed. “It wasn’t necessary. I don’t believe it would have changed anything. It may have even made it worse,” she replied sadly.

“What in the blighted world are you talking about?” Catlyn demanded, hands firmly planted on her hips. She wanted answers and she wanted them now.

Lord Emeric cleared his throat and inhaled deeply. “Inquisitor, your father and I were very close and grew increasingly so after the death of your grandfather. We both shared a certain distrust of your grandmother and did not share her views in her approach to ruling our house. I was the sole witness at the wedding of your father and mother at the university some ten months before your birth and around the same time your grandmother plotted to have your mother thrown out of the university. I want you to know that I wholeheartedly disapproved of the plan but that my hands were tied. I did what I could to dissuade her but unfortunately only succeeded in keeping their marriage intact.”

Were it not for her incredible strength, Catlyn would have fallen down in disbelief. “You- you were married?” she croaked. “Why did you never tell me?”

“What would it have changed?” her mother asked. “Married or not, the result was still the same: he had to leave us.”

“But why? I don’t understand.” Catlyn was too stunned to think coherently. How could a man join with someone in a sacred bond and then cast her aside?

“I can see what you’re thinking, Catlyn. You need to understand, regardless of his commitment to us, he had no choice in the matter.”

“Your mother is quite right, Your Worship,” her great-uncle picked up. “My sister-in-law’s fury knew no bounds. She was incensed that your father would disregard her decision on the matter. She had many hopes for his betrothal, none of which included an untitled commoner from Fereldan. If he didn’t agree to leave and renounce any vow he took, she threatened to have you both eliminated.”

“She would have had us killed? Why?” Catlyn stared at them in disbelief.

“So that he could be free to marry someone of her choosing. She was livid that he went against her wishes and even went so far as to have the priest who performed the ceremony declared mentally unfit and sent away. As ruthless as she was, even she was not above going against the sanctity of Chantry vows. She hoped that over time, given how destitute she had left you and your mother, you would succumb to some illness or famine and the issue would resolve itself on its own. Your father would be free to marry again and she would be able to find him a suitable match who would deliver an heir appropriate to her eyes.”

“So all of this was because he didn’t marry someone noble enough for her desires?”

“In essence, yes,” he replied, chagrined. 

Catlyn’s blood boiled in rage. “Where were you in all of this? If you were so against her, how come you did nothing to prevent her from carrying out this foolishness?”

Lord Emeric shifted uncomfortably under her spiteful gaze. “Perhaps, had I been a stronger man. Alas, Lady Guinevere knew no bounds when it came to achieving her desires. She threatened to have me committed and even went so far as to threaten the safety of my own children and grandchildren. Had I know she would corrupt them with her malicious, deceitful ways regardless, I would have ignored her threats and done anything in my power to prevent her from coming after your mother. Alas, I was still proud and in love with them at the time and would not risk their safety in exchange for sparing your mother’s reputation.”

“It was more than just her reputation,” she spat. “She took everything away from her, including my father.”

“Forgive me, Your Worship," he replied sincerely. "I did not mean to undermine the impact it had on you and your mother in any way.”

Catlyn stood breathing heavily, the mark on her hand twitching in response to her energy. She turned to her mother. “Did you know of all this?”

“For the most part, yes. I didn’t know the specific threats Guinevere made, but I knew they must have been severe enough for your father to choose to heed them.”

“And yet here you stand, willing to welcome this man into your life, despite his self-expressed selfishness that led to you losing everything you had worked so hard to achieve.”

“That’s unfair, Catlyn. They were both in impossible situations. We weren’t killed as a result of her actions. My position at the university was lost, yes, but my knowledge was not. My reputation among those who mattered most to me was unchanged. We managed to build a very good life for ourselves.”

“It might not have turned out so well!” she protested.

“But it did, Catlyn. You’re angry over a past that never happened, over possibilities that never materialized. We have had a good life- a happy life. What’s the use in filling it with bitterness and anger now?”

Catlyn struggled to reconcile her mother’s feelings with her own. Unable to do so, she straightened and turned back to the visitor.

“So why are you here then? I assume your only goal was not to stir up troubled memories for my mother and I. What do I need to do to get you to leave?”

“Catlyn, manners please,” her mother scolded her. She paid no attention and continued to stare at the man who returned her gaze with an apologetic one of his own.

“I may never be able to make up for the wrongs that have been done to you, Your Worship. However, it is my duty to inform you of your grandmother’s passing.”

“Passing?” Catlyn reeled. “When?”

“Several weeks ago now. It was a most unfortunate accident. She was set to travel to the city on business. We had just sent the carriage in for repairs. Everything should have been in order. Alas, on a particularly bumpy incline, we crossed paths with an elf and his mabari, no doubt on his way back to master’s home. He lost control of the beast which in turn frightened the horses. They took off and as they sped down the hill, the carriage hit a rut in the road which sent the back wheel flying off. The carriage cracked off its hitch and went tumbling down into a ravine. Your grandmother was launched from inside and suffered severe head trauma. They were far from home and the city and by the time any healers arrived, it was too late. Lady Guinevere succumbed to her wounds.”

Catlyn’s heart pounded in her chest. She was somewhat satisfied by the grisly passing of the woman she had grown up despising, but it was something else that piqued her interest and sent her mind ablaze.

“What happened to the elf?” she asked. Lord Emeric gave her a puzzled look, not expecting her reaction to come in the form of a question regarding the state of a common elf servant.

“Why- he disappeared, Your Worship. No doubt fled during the commotion, guilty for having caused the accident. It wasn’t his fault, of course, but being an elf he was no doubt afraid for his life.”

“Were you ever able to find him?”

“No, Your Worship. Though admittedly we did not do much to track him down either.”

Catlyn’s mind raced. She knew of an elf that had access to a mabari. One who also knew Gaspar very well. In his final letter to her, he had mentioned that all would be avenged. She wondered whether there might be a connection.

“Thank you for the news, my lord. You could have just as easily sent a messenger,” she pointed out.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, that would have been an alternative. However, the deliverance of this news was perhaps not entirely my sole purpose for travelling here.”

“Oh?” she arched her eyebrow in reply. “Then what was?”

“You see, Your Worship, with the passing of your grandmother and the previous passing of your father, may Andraste guide his soul,” he bowed his head in respect, one he had not shown for the late Lady Guinevere, “this leaves the position of head of the Trevelyan household temporarily unoccupied. That is, unless you are willing to accept that responsibility.”

Catlyn’s eyes widened in surprise and dread. “You can’t possibly mean…”

“You are the lawful heir to House Trevelyan, Your Worship. It would be an honour for us all if you would assume the responsibility and title that goes along with it.”

It was all too much for Catlyn to take in. She could forgive her mother her secrets- Maker only knew how many she held herself- but this was not something she had ever wanted nor considered possible. 

“Andraste’s dimpled backside,” she cursed.

“Catlyn, language, _please _,” her mother cut in.__

__She ignored her and continued. “I- I don’t want this, I don’t know what to do with this. I have enough titles, more than I ever wanted, let alone one I inherited from a family I have despised my entire life.”_ _

__“I realize this may all come as a shock to you, my lady,” her great-uncle replied understandingly. “I don’t mean to burden you any further than what you have already been asked to endure. But it is my duty and, if I may, my personal wish that you be aware of this responsibility. Our family name has been brought low by the actions of my sister-in-law. I will take to my grave the regret of not having done something more to curb her distasteful actions and limited the effect she had on our lives. For once in my life I am faced with the opportunity to do something that is truly right. It would be an honour to have you lead our household wherever you so wish. I have every faith that you would bring justice where it has been so terribly lacking all these years.”_ _

__“You don’t even know me,” she whispered, barely able to breathe._ _

__“Your reputation precedes you, Your Worship. And, if I may, if you are anything like your mother and father- and judging by your actions today, I see much of your father in you- I know my belief is sound.”_ _

__“But I’m a bastard. The title doesn’t automatically fall to me.”_ _

__“Technically you’re not, Inquisitor,” Josephine pointed out unhelpfully, “if what your great-uncle says is true.”_ _

__Catlyn scowled at her before turning back to Lord Emeric. “You could pass this down through your line. You spoke of children and grandchildren. Only you know of this secret. Why not use it to your advantage?”_ _

__“Sadly, my children and grandchildren fell prey to the guises of your grandmother. They are as corrupt as she is. I believe that is what she had hoped to achieve by inviting you to the estate several months ago. She hoped to woo you, take advantage of some ignorant, common little girl with wild dreams of nobility. She knew nothing of you or of her own son really, for if she had she would have realized that no matter how common your upbringing, you would see right through her veils. I would sooner walk the Deep Roads than willingly pass over this opportunity to set right what was so wrongfully committed years ago.”_ _

__Catlyn closed her eyes, numb to everything around her. It was all too much. Everything was too much. Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, Corypheus, the news of her grandmother- it all came crashing down around her._ _

__“You don’t have to make the decision right away, of course. If you need some time to think it over…” her great-uncle offered._ _

__“I need some fresh air. If you’ll excuse me please.” Catlyn turned and rushed from the room, not stopping until she reached the farthest corner of the battlements. From atop the walls, the cold air lashed at her face and drove away the heat that had spread while standing in Josephine’s office. She gulped in the air like a tonic, letting the breeze fill her thoughts and calm her mind._ _

__What would she do with a title she never wanted? It took every ounce of effort she had to lead the Inquisition and even then she wasn’t sure what she was doing. What did she know about being the head of a noble household? How could she ever reconcile becoming something she had learned to hate most of her life? Maybe this was the Maker’s cruel irony: she had been responsible for her father’s death and now she suspected she was also the cause of her grandmother’s. She had laid low the heads of the household she resented and now was being asked to lead it. Cruel indeed._ _

__How long she spent gazing out across the snowy mountains, she couldn’t tell. After a time she could sense someone approaching and judging by the heavy step, she could guess who it was._ _

__“Commander,” she greeted him, not even turning around._ _

__“Inquisitor,” he replied coming over to stand beside her. He leaned down and rested his forearms on the wall as she did._ _

__“Coming to convince me that it is my birthright and responsibility to assume this title being foisted upon me?”_ _

__“No, actually, I was just coming to make sure you hadn’t thrown yourself off the side of the battlements in desperation,” he replied sincerely. “That’s a lot to take in all at once.”_ _

__“You’re telling me,” she snorted. Catlyn closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, dropping her head between her arms. “I never asked for this, Cullen.”_ _

__“I know,” he replied softly, wrapping one strong arm around her and drawing her near. She buried her head into the crook of his arm, desperately wishing to lose herself in his comfort and warmth. “You don’t have to decide right away. You don’t even have to accept. Many people have abdicated their rights to such a title for all manner of reasons. Yours would rank among those seen as most reasonable. You owe them nothing and they owe you everything. They would gain the most in this arrangement. Your uncle was right in one respect- your reputation does precede you. It would mean a great deal to a family such as theirs to have someone in your position as head of the household. After what they’ve done, they aren’t deserving of that respect.”_ _

__She knew Cullen was right. She shared the same reaction. She was more surprised that she found herself grappling with a different desire._ _

__“What if… what if I want to do it?” she said, her voice barely a whisper above the wind._ _

__“Lead them? Is that truly what you want?” he answered in surprise._ _

__“I don’t know,” she groaned miserably. “Every bone in my body screamed out against him as he explained why he had come. They rejoiced at the news of my grandmother’s fate. Yet despite it all, my heart says that I could salvage something good of this. I don’t know what, but maybe there is a reason for all of this happening now.”_ _

__Cullen leaned down to look at her, searching her face for some hint of how she was feeling. “Catlyn, the reason we chose you as our leader is because you see reason where there is discord. Opportunities where we only see defeat. It is your judgment that has led you this far. If you believe there is something worth pursuing here, then we will all support you.”_ _

__“I feel as if I would be betraying every decision I made. I fought against them and the nobility for so long and now I am considering becoming one of them. I feel like a complete hypocrite.”_ _

__“Your circumstances are far different than anything I have ever seen. No one knows of the circumstances surrounding your father’s death and they have no reason to find out. There isn’t a person around the war table that would consider you a hypocrite. If anything we can see what a difficult decision this would be for you and one more example of how you put others and the greater good ahead of your own desires.” His words had a soothing effect on her. “You said yourself that there is no place for regret in your life. Do you think you would regret turning him down now?”_ _

__Catlyn considered that for a moment. “I think so, yes.”_ _

__“Then you know what do to.”_ _

__Catlyn sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him in tightly to her. “Thank you,” she said casting her gaze up at him._ _

__“For what?” he looked down at her, bemused._ _

__“For your forgiveness. Understanding. Support. Everything that makes you strong and wonderful where I can’t be.” Cullen’s face screwed up slightly at the mention of strong. “You are, you know.”_ _

__“Am what?”_ _

__“Strong. And wonderful,” she added._ _

__He shook his head and smiled. “Maker only knows why you feel that way, but I am eternally thankful that you are,” he replied earnestly._ _

__Catlyn lifted her chin to meet his lips in a soft kiss, letting his tenderness fill her and rid her of the vestiges of her struggle. She longed to stay in that moment forever, ignoring the Trevelyans, Corypheus, the anchor, the Inquisition- everything that fraught her with anger, confusion, and fear. To be lost in his arms and drift away into the Fade seemed too perfect for words._ _

__“I suppose we should get back,” she mumbled, finally parting from his lips._ _

__“Josephine showed Lord Emeric to his quarters for the evening and your mother retired to her chambers. There is no rush. You don’t have to answer him today, you know. Even if you have made up your mind it can wait until morning.”_ _

__“What would you have us do with all this free time?” Catlyn purred suggestively._ _

__“I can think of several things, one in particular comes to mind,” he grinned and bent his head once more to reclaim her lips. Catlyn sighed and gave in to her commander, eager to lose herself in his embrace and ignore the mounting responsibilities that seemed to know no end._ _

__\---  
There was a timid knock at her door the next morning. Catlyn was seated at her desk, the remnants of her breakfast that Grace had brought her sitting just off to the side. She had opted for more time alone, lost in the solitary comfort of her chamber, and attempted to wade through some of the correspondence Josephine had left for her. She glanced up at the staircase and watched as her mother ascended very gracefully yet hesitantly from below._ _

__“Good morning Mother,” Catlyn greeted her kindly but formally._ _

__“Catlyn,” she replied taking a step further into the room. “You didn’t come down for breakfast so I wanted to make sure everything was alright.”_ _

__“You mean you wanted to make sure I hadn’t escaped?” Catlyn smirked._ _

__“The thought had crossed my mind, yes. You were prone to disappearing as a young girl. I wanted to make sure you had grown out of those bad habits.”_ _

__“I don’t shy away from responsibility, Mother. I may not like it all, but I don’t run from it.”_ _

__“I can see that,” she answered, stopping in front of the fire to stoke the embers. “I hope I didn’t offend you Catlyn. I can see it came as a surprise, the news of your father’s and my marriage.”_ _

__“I think I understand why you kept it from me. I just wish you would have let me know before Lord Emeric arrived. It would have been nice to hear it from you in private instead of airing our dirty laundry in front of my advisors.”_ _

__Her mother turned towards her again, placing the poker against the mantle of the fireplace. “Yes, I see that now. I apologize for the element of surprise.” She approached her daughter’s desk and perched herself on the edge. “Have you made any decisions regarding the offer?”_ _

__“I have,” Catlyn replied simply. She chided herself internally for making her mother draw it out so, but a little part of her still resented the surprise._ _

__“Will you speak with your great-uncle then?”_ _

__“I will.”_ _

__When she offered no further information, her mother pursed her lips and sighed. “Catlyn, would you please behave like an adult and tell me what your intentions are? You realize the opportunity here, do you not? You could do great many a good thing as head of the family. There is a certain amount of power that comes with the responsibility that could allow you to set right so much of what your grandmother did wrong.”_ _

__“I understand that. It doesn’t change what she did though.”_ _

__“Nothing can ever change that. What’s done is done. You have a choice to make now which is yours and yours alone to bear. Please don’t let your past feelings guide you towards a decision that you might regret later.”_ _

__“I understand all of that, which is why I will accept the responsibility that is yet again being thrust upon me.”_ _

__“You’ll- what?” her mother started and stared at her incredulously, expecting more of a fight. “You’re accepting?”_ _

__“Yes. Isn’t that what you’ve come up here to argue for?” she replied, smug satisfaction filling her as her mother’s shock was plainly visible on her face._ _

__“Well, yes, as a matter of fact it was,” she settled back onto the desk comfortably. She regarded her daughter with a sneaky suspicion. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” she chided her._ _

__“It’s not often that I get to head you off at the pass,” she grinned._ _

__Her mother laughed in resignation. “What made you change your mind?”_ _

__Catlyn shrugged. “I won’t lie. There is a part of me that is doing it because I don’t shy away from duty. There is also a part that agrees with you- that I could finally do something good with that name. But there is definitely a part of me that enjoys the satisfaction of knowing that I will undo every last evil thing she ever did. I don’t know the extent to which she influenced those around her, but I will spend every resource I can to try and figure it out and end her cruel web of deceit and lies.”_ _

__“Just don’t let that be your sole motivation, Catlyn. It’s negativity you don’t need. I would try and focus more on the good things that could come of it.”_ _

__“I know and I will. So shall we inform my great-uncle of the decision?”_ _

__“I think he would be grateful to be put out of his misery. He realizes he’s asking a lot of you and wouldn’t have done so if he didn’t strongly believe that this was the right thing to do.”_ _

__“How well do you know him?” Catlyn asked as the two made their way downstairs._ _

__“I only met him on a few occasions. He visited your father often at the university and then of course came for the wedding. Your father spoke of him often though. He is a kind and just man. He didn’t approve of your grandmother from the start but of course had no say in the matter. It pained him to watch his brother submit to her will so easily. When she held on to power after he died, he argued against it quite vehemently and was rewarded with exile for a time, during which she sunk her claws into his own children and grandchildren. He agreed to return on her terms if only to keep a better eye on what was going on and influence to whatever extent possible he could her actions.”_ _

__“She really was a witch, wasn’t she?”_ _

__“Of the worst kind, my dear.”_ _

__As they entered Josephine’s study, Lord Emeric was standing with the other three advisors in discussion. He hobbled slightly as he turned to face her, relying heavily on the cane at his side to support his movements._ _

__“Your Worship,” he bowed._ _

__“Please, there is no need for formalities here,” she replied kindly. He smiled hopefully in response. “I’ve considered your offer and have come to a decision.”_ _

__“I’m sure it is just and with good reason, Inquisitor.”_ _

__She squared her shoulders and drew herself up as best she could. “Lord Emeric, I accept my responsibility as heir to the Trevelyan name. From henceforth, I will be known as Lady Trevelyan and all decisions related to family matters shall be brought to my attention. As you can imagine, I am somewhat occupied by my responsibilities towards the Inquisition and will be unable to attend to most matters myself. As such, I would appoint you as my representative, to manage affairs in my stead until otherwise notified. You will be treated with the same respect that would be shown to the head of the household in all matters. If I hear of any treatment to the contrary, I will make time to come and deal with the matters personally.”_ _

__“Thank you, Your Worship. You do the family a great honour in your acceptance,” her uncle replied._ _

__“I have one thing further to discuss Uncle. You mentioned the tentacles of my late grandmother reaching far throughout the family. I assume you speak of my cousins. I would have you identify those that you believe will pose the greatest threat to your rule. As you can imagine, I insist that our family pledge its support for the Inquisition in all its matters. Send these cousins of mine to Skyhold to report in for duty. Commander Cullen will assess their abilities and assign them either to infantry or other duties within the Inquisition. Leliana will take care of those who are not fit for combat and ensure that they are all found positions that are fit for their abilities and judgment.”_ _

__“My lady, your wisdom humbles us all,” he attempted to bow again, though given his lameness, he was unable to prostrate himself as far as he would like. “I hope to serve in your stead with honour and justice and will make arrangements to have certain parties identified and sent to report in to the Inquisition with great haste.”_ _

__“Please uncle, enough with the formality. If you try and bow one more time you may never get back on a horse again,” Catlyn pleaded gently._ _

__The old man chuckled as he straightened himself once more. “You are too kind, my lady. I admit my body may be failing me but my mind is still sound. I shall deliver the news immediately.”_ _

__“I can draft up suitable correspondence for the Inquisitor to sign to return with you, my lord,” Josephine offered. “Perhaps a small retinue of soldiers to accompany you as well?”_ _

__“That- would be most thoughtful of you, Ambassador,” he replied, relief in his tone._ _

__“What about a carriage Josie? Couldn’t we spare something for him?”_ _

__“I’m sure we could find a wagon and have it altered sufficiently to make it comfortable for such a long journey. Sadly the carriages we have requisitioned are not yet ready as all focus has been on rebuilding Skyhold.”_ _

__“You are very kind, my ladies. Following the late Lady Trevelyan’s accident, the carriage has not yet been repaired, hence my reason for travelling on horseback. I would be eternally grateful for any transportation you could offer. A simple straw cushion would suffice and I am not bothered by traveling among goods should it be possible to travel along with previously arranged shipments.”_ _

__“Nonesense Lord Emeric, we will not have the Inquisitor’s great-uncle travel as some cargo. We will make suitable arrangements if you are able to spare another few days at Skyhold,” Josephine informed him._ _

__“I await your instructions, Ambassador.”_ _

__“It will give us the opportunity to catch up, Uncle,” her mother added. “It has been quite some time and I’m sure there is much you can do to fill us in on what has been happening with the family.”_ _

__“It would be my pleasure, Professor.”_ _

__“I’ll join you shortly, mother. I need to speak with my advisors first,” Catlyn said. Her mother nodded and joined her uncle at his side, threading her arm through his as they slowly made their way out of the room. As the door closed behind him, all eyes turned to Catlyn._ _

__“Inquisitor, what a surprise. After your exchange yesterday, I never expected you to accept,” Josephine gushed. “The addition of this title to your repertoire will have quite the effect across Thedas.”_ _

__“I want one thing to be clear,” Catlyn started, her voice stern. “If anyone starts calling me ‘my lady’ and falling over themselves in response to being suddenly elevated to nobility because of some serendipitous act, I will send them into the next rift I open. Is that clear?”_ _

__“Yes, Your Worship,” all three advisors mumbled. Josephine looked clearly chagrined._ _

__“But Inquisitor, surely this must be recognized somehow. It cannot simply be ignored. It could be very advantageous to us, especially with respect to securing an invitation to Halamshiral. Some small ceremony to-” Josephine argued plaintively before Catlyn cut her off._ _

__“No ceremony. If you think you can use this for the benefit of the Inquisition then do so, but in moderation. I have effectively discharged all responsibility with respect to my family to my uncle and I plan on keeping it that way for as long as I can. The Inquisition remains my number one focus. With perhaps the small exception of my cousins whom I will deal with when the time comes.”_ _

__“Of course, Your Worship,” Josephine nodded, clearly disappointed at being robbed of an occasion to organize a fete, but mollified by the approval to use the name to further Inquisition interests._ _

__“What do you plan on doing with these cousins of yours, Inquisitor?” Leliana asked curiously._ _

__“Exactly what I said. Combat or whatever you feel is appropriate Josie. I want them isolated and as far-removed from the Free Marches as possible. The more that will fit in for battle, the better. There is a greater chance they will simply be eliminated serving a just cause and therefore preventing any further trouble they might cause.”_ _

__Leliana chuckled. “Very shrewd, Inquisitor. Do you wish to know of their fate?”_ _

__Catlyn considered the question for a moment. “No, not really. Keep them out of my sight. If any were to fall in battle, I would have my uncle notified. Keep a close eye on all of them. At the first glimpse of anything suspicious, deal with them.”_ _

__“It shall be done, Inquisitor,” the Spymaster inclined her head._ _

__Catlyn noticed Cullen who had been silent through the entire exchange. He was watching her intently, one hand grazing his lips as he fought back a smirk._ _

__“Anything to say, Commander?” she looked at him suspiciously._ _

__“You were born for this,” he mused._ _

__“What? To be a Trevelyan?”_ _

__“To lead,” he answered with a grin._ _

__Catlyn flustered and could feel her face redden. “Yes, well,” she fumbled and cleared her throat. “Before I meet my mother and great-uncle, shall we move to the War Room for a council session? I believe we have some matters to discuss regarding Halamshiral and the Grey Wardens. I’m still not convinced we are in a state to descend upon Adamant and I would like more reports from our scouts. Has anyone heard from Hawke yet?”_ _

__“Nothing yet, Inquisitor. Varric assures us that she will report back when she knows more,” Leliana replied._ _

__Catlyn nodded. “To the War Room then.”_ _

__As the four made their way down the hall towards the War Room, Cullen held Catlyn back slightly behind the others and bent down to whisper in her ear, “You’re quite magnificent when you take charge, did you know that my lady?” he emphasized her title knowing it would send her blood boiling._ _

__“I believe the appropriate form of address is ‘Your Worship’ Commander,” she reprimanded him, “or is this a form of insubordination that should not go unpunished?”_ _

__Cullen chuckled deeply and nipped at her ear gently. “I will worship you to the end of the Fade and back, Inquisitor. How you see fit to deal with me between then is entirely up to you.” Catlyn grinned and pushed him away teasingly._ _

__“I have my eye on you Rutherford. One more misstep and I will follow through.”_ _

__“Hope so,” he winked before holding the door to the War Room open, ushering her inside. Catlyn’s heart raced as the heat pooled low in her belly. Maker, he was going to be the death of her._ _


	39. Waitaminute.... are you thinking what I am?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Catlyn make an astute observation regarding the state of their friends' relationship.

_Dear Commander _,__

_It has been several weeks since my arrival and I am forever grateful for the small cavalry unit you provided me with for my return home. The Ambassador’s foresight in having official decrees drawn up has also proven very useful. As anticipated, I was met with a great deal of resistance and have had to resort to measures more drastic than I preferred in order to keep the peace. I have divided the family into different groups and have done my best to isolate each in turn. There are those who will support Lady Trevelyan and thus me as her seneschal and then there are those who fall into one of two categories: those who will eventually obey once they are presented with options; and those who will continue to pose a challenge. I endeavour to limit the latter, as instructed by the Inquisitor. ___

_You shall soon be receiving four of my beloved progeny. I selected those who provided the most exemplary demonstration of my grand-niece’s criteria. You will no doubt find that they go above and beyond what she has asked for and for that I wish you the very best. One day I must find a way to repay your kindness in turn. ___

_The first is my eldest son, Padric. Do not let his rotund figure fool you: despite his many years feasting off the spoils of his aunt’s exploits, he was trained in battle from a young age. Give him a sword and several months of hard training and you will no doubt find he will remember his prowess in battle. If he does not, I have every faith that he will have died championing the family in the name of the Inquisition. ___

_Amston is my second eldest grandson. He has a loud voice and a cheeky mouth- perchance could he be used as a distraction of some sort during battle? He is very fast and would likely be able to outrun his opponents. ___

_The ladies, Dorcus and Ingrid, are accustomed to the many comforts of nobility including private chambers, elegant meals, and gentle climates. I trust that Sister Leliana will find suitable accommodations for them in the Western Approach. ___

_I have also asked the Inquisitor to thank her rogue friend Sera for the antidotes she provided me with. Upon my return I was poisoned not once but twice after eating a meal. As much as I would like to believe it had to do with the poor quality of the latest cook to be recruited here, I have my doubts. ___

_If the party I have sent you does not meet your standards, I urge you to return them to me immediately, preferably by way of the Fallow Mire. We cannot have inadequate representation of the Trevelyan name among the Inquisition ranks and I have others that are making a case for being sent in their stead. Perhaps I will send them regardless, only time will tell. ___

_Your humble servant, ___

_Emeric Trevelyan_

__\---  
“No dragons.”_ _

__“It’s not like we went searching for them the last time,” Catlyn protested weakly._ _

__“No dragons.”_ _

__“We can hardly leave people undefended against them,” she continued._ _

__“No. Dragons.”_ _

__Catlyn stared at him darkly. “Fine, no dragons,” she acquiesced. “This time,” she added under her breath. Cullen looked at her archly but let the matter drop. He would take the promise for now, even if it only applied to this excursion._ _

__The two stood beside Catlyn’s horse in their traditional departure gathering. Vivienne was inspecting her mount with great exaggeration while Cassandra stood nearby, barely containing her eye roll. Blackwall was assisting Josephine with her saddle as she stood beside him wringing her fingers and fretting over the journey. She had been among those most disappointed in the carriages not being completed in time for the journey to Val Royeaux. She had business to attend to with the Inquisitor and Vivienne had insisted on coming along, needing desperately to touch base with the civilized world as she had put it. Blackwall and Cassandra were accompanying them as additional protection. The decision had been made to focus on foiling Corypheus’s plot to assassinate the Empress in the absence of clear information regarding the Grey Warden activities at Adamant. As a result, Josephine was all in a frenzy with respect to preparations for the ball. Cullen had witnessed several heated exchanges between the typically calm and poised ambassador and the Inquisitor. Catlyn had refused to wear a gown for the event and Josephine objected vociferously, arguing that appearances meant everything in Orlais. She had not succeeded in swaying the Inquisitor but she wasn’t yet ready to give up. She had plotted with Vivienne in an attempt to convince Catlyn to change her mind and though Cullen was skeptical she would succeed, Josephine was nothing if not persistent. He wasn’t sure dragging Catlyn off to dressmakers in Val Royeaux would do much to convince her and the only reason Josephine succeeded in getting her to come with her was her request for assistance with a family matter._ _

__“I’ll send a raven once we arrive,” Catlyn said, looking up at him with the same sadness she always had in her eyes every time she left Skyhold. Cullen didn’t want to admit it, but he secretly hoped that it was because she missed him and not just because she loved the fortress and everyone within it._ _

__“Good luck with Josephine,” he replied. “I hope you know she hasn’t given up her position on suitable attire for the ball.”_ _

__Catlyn grunted and rolled her eyes. “She can try every tactic she can think of. I am not dressing up in some over embellished peacock gown that costs more to make than some people earn in a lifetime. Inquisition resources are better served preparing for the attack on Adamant or helping with the refugees.”_ _

__“I completely agree, Inquisitor. She still doesn’t see it that way.”_ _

__“She can see it any way she would like. I will not be wearing it.”_ _

__Cullen chuckled and lowered his voice. “You’ll look beautiful regardless of what you wear.”_ _

__A slow smile spread across Catlyn’s blushing face. “So long as you think so, to the Void with the rest of the world.” Cullen ached to reach out and pull her in for one last embrace, but in front of the rest of the Inquisition populace, he held back and remained satisfied with the exchange they had privately in his office before descending to the stables._ _

__“Hey Boss, can I talk to you for a second?” Bull approached the pair looking slightly nervous._ _

__“Of course Bull, what’s up?” Catlyn turned to him._ _

__“Uh, if you wouldn’t mind…” he trailed off and turned slightly, indicating he wished a private audience. Catlyn nodded to him and turned to cast an apologetic look at Cullen before walking off to speak with Bull. Cullen watched the pair curiously as Bull appeared to awkwardly make a request of the Inquisitor. Cullen couldn’t see her face, but he could tell by her body language that she was confused by what was being asked of her. Judging by the look on Bull’s face she agreed to his request, though she remained puzzled as she returned to Cullen._ _

__“Everything alright?” he asked._ _

__Catlyn frowned and thought for a moment before replying. “Do you ever get the impression you’re missing something that is so obvious yet so obscure?”_ _

__“More often than I care to admit,” he replied with a smirk._ _

__Catlyn laughed and shook her head. “Men,” she sighed in exasperation before she looked ruefully at her mount. “I had better be off,” she said quietly._ _

__“Be safe, Inquisitor,” Cullen saluted her, trying hard to appear strong. He hated saying goodbye to her. It never got easier._ _

__“Take care Commander,” she saluted bravely in reply, though her eyes betrayed her reluctance. She swung up into her saddle and led the party out of the gates, keeping her head high and straight as she rode down the causeway._ _

__\---  
“Fasta vass,” Dorian hissed and threw his queen across the table. “This one is yours Commander.” _ _

__Cullen was surprised by Dorian’s frustration. The game was not, in fact, his. He could see several moves Dorian still had left to make in order to turn the tables. “Giving up so easily, Pavus?”_ _

__“I’m not in the right mindset today,” he grumbled in response. It was true, Dorian had been short-tempered since Catlyn’s return from Val Royeaux. Cullen had asked her about it but she seemed oblivious to his sour mood. “He’s been fine with me,” she had said. Still, he couldn’t help but suspect there was some kind of link._ _

__“Is there something on your mind, Dorian?” Cullen asked tentatively, twirling his rook between his fingers._ _

__Dorian sat back in his chair fuming, stroking his chin irritably. After a pause, he asked, “What did you do when you realized you misjudged Catlyn?”_ _

__Cullen blinked at him. “What do you mean?”_ _

__“I mean,” he started sharply, “when you realized you had treated her unfairly due to a preconceived notion of who she was and what she valued. That she wasn’t some common dishonourable thief. That all your preconceptions were unfairly founded on past prejudices. What did you do then?”_ _

__Cullen considered the question. “I certainly felt like an ass, if that’s what you mean,” he smirked. “Mostly I was angry with myself for letting the prejudice get in the way in the first place. Perhaps disappointed is a better way to describe it. I thought I had learned my lesson before. After that I regretted having risked a relationship with her and did everything I could to try and rectify the situation as best I could. I started with an apology. Seemed like the right way to begin. Why do you ask?” he looked at his friend curiously. “Who have you misjudged?”_ _

__“That’s not really important,” Dorian muttered in reply._ _

__“It might be,” Cullen countered. “Depending on who you are dealing with, you might need to go about things in a different way.”_ _

__“And you’re the expert on the subject now?” Dorian replied acidly. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “I’m sorry Commander that was unkind. I seem to be wrestling with the reality that I am far more like the bigots at home than I thought.”_ _

__“I think you’re being overly hard on yourself Dorian. I don’t have much first-hand experience with Tevinters, but from everything I’ve heard you’re quite unlike them.”_ _

__“You’ve only encountered those Venatori zealots. I should hope I’m at least marginally better than they are,” Dorian smirked._ _

__“I’ve not only heard of the Venatori Dorian. You can’t compare yourself to the extremists of any society, Orlesian, Fereldan, whatever. We all have lapses in judgment. At least you’ve been able to recognize yours and I assume you are planning on doing something about it,” Cullen pointed out. Dorian sat silently, gazing intently at the chess board. “You are going to do something about it, aren’t you?”_ _

__Dorian waved his hand dismissively. “Yes yes, somehow I’ll find a way to tuck in my tail and apologize. I’m just not quite familiar with how to do that and my desire to do so is, well, disconcerting to say the least.”_ _

__“You’ve never apologized before?” Cullen raised an eyebrow at him._ _

__“I avoid humiliation wherever possible Commander.”_ _

__“But apologizing when deserved is hardly humiliating,” he chastised him gently._ _

__“Reducing one’s moral high ground is an act that should be avoided at all costs Commander. How else could I justify my outlandish personality and critical ways if I were to be seen an inferior to anyone else?”_ _

__Cullen sighed and shook his head. “It must be difficult being you, Dorian.”_ _

__“Not everyone can handle it Commander,” Dorian agreed. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to brood. Alone.” He pushed himself away from the table and made his way through the garden back to the keep, leaving Cullen seated alone with his thoughts. He was very curious as to who ruffled the inscrutable mage’s feathers and made a mental note to ask Catlyn about it later._ _

__\---  
“Gaspard is only using us to gain ground at Halamshiral,” Catlyn pointed out. “I’m not sure how I feel about that. I don’t like being a part of their Game.”_ _

__She was curled up in a chair near his bookshelf while Cullen sat at his desk, reviewing reports and authorizing requisitions. He enjoyed the quiet moments they stole in the evenings once the rest of the castle had slowed for the evening. They could hear the jovial sounds floating up from the Herald’s Rest as the patrons were no doubt being regaled by Varric’s stories, Sera’s bawdy humour, or Maryden’s songs. It was comforting to hear the sounds of happiness in an otherwise bleak situation._ _

__“Leliana and Josephine have been over this before, Catlyn,” he replied patiently. He didn’t like the idea any more than she did but it was a necessary evil._ _

__“I know, but I still don’t like it. What does he stand to gain exactly?”_ _

__“Power, position, influence,” Cullen ticked off on his fingers. “Those are just the things we know about.”_ _

__Catlyn sat sullenly. “I still don’t like it.”_ _

__“You’re as pouty as Dorian was earlier today,” he pointed out, remembering that he had meant to ask Catlyn about their friend’s attitude. “Which reminds me, I know you said you don’t know what’s got him irritated but there has to be some link to your return and his brooding.”_ _

__“Are you saying I’ve done something to offend him?” she asked, upset at the notion that she was the source of her friend’s foul humour. “Everything seemed fine when we got back. It wasn’t until the next day that I noticed him be surly. Even my mother mentioned it, come to think of it,” she furrowed her brow._ _

__“It’s not you. We spoke the other day in the garden and I got the impression it was between him and someone else but he wouldn’t say who. He spoke of misjudging someone.”_ _

__“Who could he have misjudged? So far his assessments have been generally spot on. The only person whom he seems to dislike that I don’t agree with is Sera. I think she’s misunderstood. Oh, and Bull.”_ _

__“Bull?” Cullen’s eyebrow raised. “They don’t get along?”_ _

__Catlyn shrugged. “They’re cordial, no open warfare or anything like that. I think each carries a certain about of prejudice regarding the other but they’ve never let it get in the way of the Inquisition.”_ _

__“Prejudice?” Cullen’s ears pricked up at the word. Catlyn nodded. “Interesting,” he mused. “What did Bull ask you to do in Val Royeaux?”_ _

__Catlyn made a face. “It was a bit odd really. Not something I would have expected of him but he said it was a personal favour and he would appreciate my help and discretion.”_ _

__“Does discretion extend to anyone beyond yourself?”_ _

__“I could make an exception for a close, personal friend,” she grinned at him._ _

__Cullen leaned back in his chair, slightly affronted. “Friend?”_ _

__Catlyn laughed a light melodic sound and unwound herself from the chair and moved to Cullen’s lap instead, curling herself up in a very feline like manner. “A very close, personal friend,” she mumbled and drew him in for a kiss. Cullen’s attempt at personal injury was quickly forgotten as he returned her affections as enthusiastically as she gave. “Bull asked me to meet with a merchant who was interested in joining the League de Celestine- have you heard of it?”_ _

__“Briefly once or twice. Something having to do with wealthy Orlesian nobles, is it not?”_ _

__“Exactly. It embodies everything I despise about nobility: exclusivity, contempt for those less fortunate, and a general display of debauchery. The merchant wanted me to apply pressure on some members to get him admitted.”_ _

__“And Bull asked you to do that? Why?” Cullen was baffled. Bull knew how much Catlyn despised everything noble and couldn’t imagine for a second her agreeing to do something like that._ _

__“The merchant had something that he wanted very badly and those were his terms. It seemed to mean a great deal to him so I did it.”_ _

__“You what? Really? I’m surprised,” he replied._ _

__“I am too,” she laughed. “It really seemed to mean a lot to him though and that was more important to me than refusing to help some aspiring upstart merchant. Vivienne and Josephine got me in touch with the right people while we were in Val Royeaux and I believe the man was set to receive an invitation within a fortnight.”_ _

__Cullen hummed in reply and wondered whether there was any connection to Dorian. “Bull didn’t give you any indication whatsoever what it was he wanted from the merchant?”_ _

__“He said it was something that was given up in haste and he wanted to get it back. Nothing more. Why are you so curious?” she smiled at him in amusement._ _

__“Oh nothing,” he shook his head dismissively. “Just wondered that’s all.”_ _

__“You can’t go digging around and not explain yourself Cullen,” she laughed accusatorily. “What is it that you know?”_ _

__“I just wondered whether there was a connection, that’s all. Between that and Dorian. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I just wondered whether something Bull did might have upset Dorian.”_ _

__Catlyn’s brow furrowed as she stared at him, lost in thought. “You know, there was this time at the Western Approach… Dorian hit a bit of a low point. When I went over to speak with him, I noticed Bull watching him a bit too intently for someone who didn’t seem to care overmuch for a person. You don’t think….” Catlyn’s voice trailed off and her smile broke into an excited grin._ _

__“Stranger things have happened,” Cullen laughed. “Probably best we keep it to ourselves for now, don’t you think? See how it plays out?”_ _

__“Yes I think you’re right,” she agreed. “Let’s keep a close watch though.” She stifled a yawn and sighed._ _

__“It’s getting late. We should both get to bed.” Catlyn looked up at him through her lashes, one eyebrow slightly raised. “I meant to sleep. In our own beds,” he stammered, turning quite red in the face. Though he would admit the thought of Catlyn in his own bed had invaded his dreams more than once, their relationship was young and there was still much to overcome._ _

__Catlyn ran her hands through his hair and pulled him close, her warm honeyed breath sending his skin prickling in wanton anticipation. “Sweet dreams, Commander,” she whispered in his ear, gently nibbling on his lobe and sending shockwaves down his spine._ _

__“Merciless woman,” he growled in return before swinging her up into his arms and carrying her across his office. He opened the door to the keep and set her down unceremoniously on her feet. She looked up at him indignantly as he bent down and kissed her chastely on the lips. “Goodnight, my lady,” he murmured as he shut the door softly in her face. He could hear her frustrated grunt from the other side and chuckled while her curses grew more distant as she returned to her chambers. He knew he would pay for that tomorrow but in that moment, it was worth it._ _


	40. Surprises Abound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition gets ready for Halamshiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay- life happened! More to come soon.

_Inquisitor _,__

_I hope this letter finds you well. I have been very busy carrying out your requests and have several reports for you _.__

_I am pleased to inform you that your recent request regarding Professor Damerell’s position at the University of Orlais has been accepted. The documentation you provided me with was instrumental in clearing Helena’s name among the Council of Deans, though news of your outburst when you last visited your grandmother had also traveled far and wide, helping to pave the path for what was an otherwise uneventful process. Professor Damerell has been fully reinstated to her previous position and has been offered full associateship, should she wish to pursue her scholarly life once more. It seems her former associate professor no longer resides among the faculty and his position is vacant _.__

_With respect to the other matter you wished addressed, I am pleased to report that taxes have been lowered and the vassals are singing your praise. Miraculously, we have been drawing in as many revenues as we were previously despite the lowered rates. It must be as you say: where there is faith in the will of the leader, abundance shall follow. All elves were also granted equal station among the house servants and I swear I have never seen the estate look so meticulous in all my years _.__

_I was saddened to learn of my son’s passing. I understand he attempted desertion, which is not looked upon favourably by other Inquisition soldiers nor does it represent our house with honour. While I spent the day mourning his death, I understand your soldiers’ feelings and respect them completely. Given the rather expeditious loss of Trevelyan representation among your ranks, I feel it would be appropriate to send a replacement in his stead. I will write to Commander Cullen shortly with regards to my selection. Since implementing your recent requests, I am pleased to see a growing number of acquiescent family members which leaves me with few who are fit to fill my son’s shoes. I will endeavour to send someone of his calibre as a replacement, though I need some time to contemplate our options _.__

_I understand that you will be leaving for Halamshiral soon. I wish you the best of luck, dear niece. A greater viper’s pit I have never seen and I have lived with your grandmother for many years. I trust in your advisors and in your own judgment. I have faith that justice will prevail _.__

_Fondly _,__

_Emeric Trevelyan _  
\---__

Josephine fumed and stomped her foot petulantly on the ground. “This is unheard of, Inquisitor. There are expectations- _standards _, that must be met. If we are to be a leader in the world we need to look the part.” “We are leading forces into battle, Josephine. No one signed up to exchange hollow pleasantries with pompous nobles while eating petit-fours." “That is all a part of it Inquisitor. It is a package. You can’t pick and choose the parts you like!” she exclaimed__

__________________“You think I like fighting demons and corrupted Templars, Josie?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“That’s not what I meant, Inquisitor,” she stumbled, clearly flustered. She sighed in exasperation, crossing her arms and pacing in front of her desk. The circular conversation had gone on for the past hour between the two women. It was the eve before their departure for the Duke’s estate where they were to spend the night before attending the ball. Preparations had been underway for weeks for the journey and everyone at Skyhold was talking about the event. The Inquisitor’s advisors would be attending, as would Madam de Fer, Bull, and Cassandra. At her mother’s request, Catlyn had also secured an invitation for her. She had been surprised at first when her mother expressed a desire to attend; she hadn’t expected something like this to interest her. However it seemed that her mother had regularly attended soirees while at the university and was looking for an excuse to explore life outside of Skyhold for a while. She wasn’t used to being cooped up, though she appreciated the reasons why._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Leliana and the professor sat in silence, watching the display with great interest. The Professor was calm and collected, barely registering the belligerence of her daughter, while she flipped through a tome and made notes in the margin. Leliana watched more intently, her eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth as she watched her old friend argue fruitlessly for her position. She didn’t necessarily agree with the Inquisitor’s position, understanding the importance of pomp and circumstance when it came to Orlesians, but she could recognize a losing battle when she saw one and instead was thinking about how they could use it to their advantage._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Josie, I think it’s time to make peace with the decision. There are many advantages to us all donning the same Inquisition uniform,” Leliana consoled her friend._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“It’s bad enough she won’t wear a suitable gown herself, but to make us all wear the same uniform? It’s- it’s inconceivable!” Josephine cried, throwing her hands up in disbelief._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Think about it Josie,” Catlyn argued. “If Corypheus is planning to assassinate the Empress, he will no doubt have people planted throughout the palace. We will need to move stealthily and quickly. It will be easier to make the slip if there are many of us running around wearing the exact same thing. A flash of red here, a slip of red there- harder to know which one of us they are tracking when no one is in a unique outfit.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“She has a point Josie,” Leliana added. Josephine simply grunted inelegantly and sat down at her desk in a huff._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“What a waste of a beautiful gown,” she lamented, dropping her head into her hands._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Gown?” the Professor perked up. “What gown?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Catlyn rolled her eyes. “When we were in Val Royeaux, I humoured Josephine and Vivienne by trying on a number of different gowns. Unbeknownst to me,” she continued, glaring pointedly at the ambassador who was looking up at her again with a fiery stare, “the ladies had me measured and a gown made to fit was procured. Josie and Vivienne tried to convince me once we were back at Skyhold to relent, thinking somehow I would fall for it once I tried it on. They were of course, wrong,” she smiled smugly at her friend, leaning back in her chair with an air of triumph about her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“It was a gown like you have never seen before, Professor. It would put everyone at the ball to shame. Now it will waste away in the dungeons of Skyhold,” Josephine all by wailed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Oh Josie,” Leliana laughed sympathetically to her overly dramatic friend._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Is it a modest dress, Ambassador?” the Professor inquired._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Modest? It is stunning Professor! Worthy of the Empress herself!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The Professor chuckled softly. “I meant is it very revealing?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Revealing? Why no, Professor. It is fairly modest in that respect. Immensely flattering, breath-taking, and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, but I would not call it indecently revealing as such.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The Professor nodded her head in understanding. “Who will be wearing the uniforms?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“All Inquisition members,” Josephine replied, throwing daggers with her eyes at Catlyn._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Official Inquisition members?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Yes, all official members. Why do you ask, Professor?” Josephine’s anger turned to curiosity as her eyes broke their gaze and turned to the woman with one eyebrow raised._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I don’t believe I am an official Inquisition member,” she stated, smoothing out her dress demurely. “I also don’t believe I have anything suitable to wear. Would it be inappropriate to believe that the dress could be used for an alternative purpose? I understand it was my daughter you wished to see in it, but it would be a great shame to have it waste away in the dungeons, as you say,” she smiled at the Ambassador._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Why, Professor, I hadn’t even considered,” Josephine mused, looking at her thoughtfully._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“You know Josie, it could work. It would send the message that the Inquisition means business but that we are not without subtleties nor are we without alliances. The Inquisitor’s recent familial revelations would give just cause to a little display of extravagance. It would be even more effective if it were through Professor Damerell.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________As Josephine and Leliana discussed the merits of such a display, Catlyn sat rooted in her chair, her jaw nearly reaching her chest. She was again dumbfounded by her mother’s hidden tastes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“You really want to get dressed up like fussy pretentious noble?” she whispered to her mother who was seated beside her. “Why?” she asked, incredulous._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Just because we could never afford such extravagance doesn’t mean I didn’t dream of the possibility, Catlyn,” her mother confessed. “I used to watch the people at the university gatherings. It wasn’t always just faculty. In fact, your father was not the only noble to be a part of the university: many families were represented there. They all paraded around like rare and exotic birds on display. I didn’t so much care for the messages they were trying to convey, but there was no denying that their gowns were beautiful. Deep down, every girl dreams to have the chance to glitter like a star.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Catlyn just shook her head. “Amazing,” she muttered. “I’ve known you my whole life and yet these past few months I feel like I’m getting to know a whole new person all over again.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“You’ve always been prone to histrionics dear,” she chided her. “It’s very unbecoming.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Yes, I think this will do marvellously Professor,” Josephine announced, drawing their attention back to her. “We will have Madam de Fer’s tailor meet us at the Duke’s estate and make the necessary adjustments. They should be minimal as you are of similar stature, though perhaps slightly more slender. It should be easy to do. This will work out splendidly!” she finished with a clap of her hands, relieved that all her efforts at dressmaking had not been for nought._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Well if that’s settled then, will you excuse me? I need to finish the last of my packing. Good evening, ladies,” the Professor stood smiling in goodbye and left the three alone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Your mother is very reasonable, Inquisitor,” Josephine pointed out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Seems it was a gene I missed I suppose,” Catlyn shrugged, unperturbed. Josephine rolled her eyes at her but her mood had improved significantly since the Professor’s suggestion. “I think I’ll turn in as well. We have an early start tomorrow. You two should as well,” Catlyn stood and nodded at them as she strode out of the room, leaving the pair to their plotting. Thankfully, with the final loose end having been tied up thanks to her mother, Catlyn could rest assured knowing that they wouldn’t be able to throw any other curve balls her way. She was anxious as it was to be tossed into the lion’s den that was the great Orlesian Game and just wanted to get the whole ordeal over with. Get in, observe a few ceremonial protocols, sort out Corypheus’s plot, and come back home. What could possibly go wrong, she thought drily._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________\---_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The back of Catlyn’s head knocked into the wall of the coach as they passed over yet another crater on the highway. “Maker’s balls,” she cursed. “Perhaps if the Orlesians spent less money on their parties and more on their infrastructure, we wouldn’t be arriving with more bruises than we get in the field.” She was still irked by the fact that Josephine insisted on everyone arriving in the newly procured carriages instead of on horseback. She was sure that she would have been less sore than she was now, being bounced around inside like an apple in a crate._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“The civil war is what bleeds them most, Inquisitor,” Josephine explained. “It is a sad waste of resources.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“On that we agree Josie,” Catlyn sighed. “I still think it’s unfair that Cullen got to ride with the soldiers on horseback,” she added bitterly. Catlyn had been forced to ride with Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra, Vivienne and her mother while Cullen was permitted to ride among the ranks. Bull, for obvious reasons, was also permitted to ride on his massive courser. There wasn’t a carriage big enough in all of Thedas to contain him and those horns of his._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“He is their commander,” Josephine reminded her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“But I’m their Inquisitor,” Catlyn argued. “Shouldn’t I be there to boost morale or something?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“This is hardly a strenuous journey and they will be staying in accommodations far better than anything they would experience elsewhere in the field. Why would their morale need any boosting?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Mine does,” she mumbled churlishly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Really my dear, must you be so ill-tempered this entire time?” Vivienne admonished her. “It’s bad enough you will have us all wearing the stuffy Inquisition garb. Must you also have us endure your surly attitude? Court approval is everything my dear. You may not approve of the Game but we are entering their territory and therefore we must play by their rules. If you truly want to see the Inquisition succeed, you need to be able to put on the fronts that are required of you. In this battle, it is poise, wit, and charm that are your weapons. If you fail to use them wisely, we will all suffer.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Yes ma’am,” Catlyn relented, sinking deeper into her seat with every word from the commanding mage. She shot a baleful glare at her mother who chuckled softly and tried to hide her smirk as her daughter was reprimanded by one of Orlais’ finest players. Resigned to her fate, Catlyn passed the time staring out the window, watching the countryside go past. Their journey was not that long, given that Halamshiral only just bordered on the western side of the Frostbacks. They also skirted the north of the Dales and thus avoided the mostly barren lands where the battles of ages ago were fought. Here the lands were not lush but verdant, with rolling hills and surprisingly few farms. Catlyn wondered what the main livelihood of people in this area was. They were not so close to the Waking Sea for this to be considered a fisher’s land, but she saw no evidence of farming either._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Most people here are in service at Halamshiral or one of the other nobles’ estates in the area,” Leliana offered by way of explanation, seemingly to reading her thoughts. “It is an industry in and of itself. There are mouths to feed, people to attend to. There are great merchant routes that flow through here and everyone gets a cut somehow.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Catlyn continued to stare out the window. “An entire industry to support a loathsome practice,” she replied sombrely._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Many lead good lives, Inquisitor. It is far simpler out here than in the city slums,” Leliana countered._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Catlyn couldn’t argue too much with that. Out in the vast open space, freedom, if only in appearance rather than fact, did appear more pleasant than some of what she saw in the cities. Antiva City wasn’t without slums and alienages. She hadn’t spent much time in them but had experienced enough to know that it was an unpleasant existence._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Soon the route changed and she found the carriage turning down a drive off the main highway. Cypress trees lined the drive which was indicative of an estate entrance. She pressed her face against the window in an attempt to see what they were approaching. Soon enough the carriage swung around in an arc and Catlyn’s eyes fell upon a beautiful white-walled villa that stood out against the green backdrop like a pearl. Manicured lawns and gardens adorned the periphery in such a way that evoked precision and glory, much like the chevalier it housed. Much to her surprise, however, it had warmth to it that she did not expect from the home of a famed military soldier._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“So this is Grand Duke Gaspard’s residence?” she breathed, unable to mask her awe. She had never seen anything quite so grand before, the Trevelyan estate appearing like a cottage in comparison._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“This is his official winter residence my dear,” Vivienne corrected her. “The Grand Duke’s permanent residence is in Verchiel, but everyone of great import has a secondary residence both in Val Royeaux and Halamshiral. It is a symbol of power and prestige: it says that he can go wherever the Empress does and needs no formal invitation. Most people wanting to attend court would need accommodations within Halamshiral which are hard to come by. From here, he can come and go as he pleases.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Complicated,” she whistled._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Not really, Inquisitor. Strategic. Would you expect anything less of such a military mind?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I suppose not,” she laughed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The carriage door was opened and Catlyn stepped out first, her two advisors behind her and Vivienne following suit. Cullen trotted up to them and dismounted, patting the side of his mount and leading it along with him. A stablehand was quickly at his side, accepting the reigns from him and leading the horse off towards the stables that Catlyn now noticed off to the side of the residence._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I trust you had a smooth journey, ladies?” he inquired pleasantly, casting a questioning look at Catlyn who glared at him jealously._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Smooth isn’t the word I would use, Commander,” she answered, rubbing the back of her tender head. “I think yours was likely far more comfortable.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I noticed the roads were rather worn,” he admitted, giving her an apologetic look. He was not among those who objected to the Inquisitor riding along with him but had been very quickly shot down along with her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The group straightened as an older man approached them from the residence with a small group of what were clearly servants following behind him. He strode towards them with confidence and purpose, his head held high and his gait that of a man who had spent a great deal of time on horseback. He was dressed in a tasteful wine coloured jacket with a tasselled sash across one shoulder and a brass coloured simple mask over his upper face. He had a shaved head and what appeared only to be stubble colouring his face. He had a wide smile with perfectly straight teeth that shone as brightly as the residence behind them when he greeted them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Ah, Inquisition, I’m pleased that you have arrived. It is an honour that you would accept my invitation to stay with me the eve of the grand ball.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“The honour is ours, Grand Duke,” Josephine stepped forward and curtsied politely in reply. “We are humbled by your offer of hospitality.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Ambassador Montilyet, it is a pleasure to see you again. It has been so long since you have been at court. The songs they sing are not nearly as sweet when you are absent,” Gaspard greeted her warmly and much to Catlyn’s surprise, with what seemed to be sincerity. She didn’t think that were possible from an Orlesian, certainly a noble one._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“My lord is too kind,” Josephine curtsied again. “May I introduce to you our Inquisitor and famed Herald of Andraste?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Recently anointed Lady Trevelyan as well, as I understand it,” he turned to Catlyn before quickly adding, “Though I understand your preferred title is Inquisitor.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Your knowledge is appreciated,” Catlyn inclined her head in recognition. He was far more pleasant than she expected by far. “Thank you again for your hospitality, Your Grace.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“What is the use of this vast estate if not to be hospitable, Inquisitor,” he waved his hand dismissively, seeming not one for formalities. “Your journey was no doubt tiresome despite the short distance. Sadly for us all, the civil war in which we find ourselves diverts the resources away from areas that truly need attention towards less worthy causes, leaving things like roads in disrepair. No doubt you’ve had your brains rattled like a child’s toy along the way. I hope to put an end to that soon.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Catlyn choked back a laugh. The man was not at all what she expected. “You’re very kind, Your Grace.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I see you have brought your advisors with you. Sister Leliana, it is a pleasure to see you again.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“The pleasure is mine, Grand Duke,” she curtsied easily, flashing a twinkling smile at him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Commander Rutherford, I presume,” he went on. “Though our time now is short, I look forward to an opportunity to speak with you on matters wholly unrelated to my country’s favourite pastime. I hear you are a famed military man and I have no doubt we have much in common.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“My experience pales in comparison to yours, Your Grace,” Cullen replied with a bow. Catlyn was impressed at how easily Cullen made it all look. She knew he was as uncomfortable among nobility as she was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Modesty, Commander. Refreshing! I look forward even more to our discussion. Madam de Fer, a pleasure to see you again,” he greeted her, taking her hand in his and kissing it chastely as Vivienne curtsied elegantly. For a second Catlyn almost forgot it was the Duke who was nobility and not Vivienne, the way she handled herself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“My dear Gaspard, it is a blessing to see you alive and looking so well,” she purred. “I know how much you suffer at the hands of the court.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“You know as well as anyone that my patience for the Game wears thin,” he replied. Again, Catlyn was shocked at both his sincerity and his apparent disdain for the political scheming that went on incessantly in his country._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“It has been costly for certain,” she quipped. Catlyn was startled at her companion’s brazenness, fully expecting Gaspard to expel her on the spot. She was surprised at the remorse he showed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“That it has. It is time for change,” he replied simply before turning to Cassandra. “Lady Pentaghast, you are looking as fierce as ever. When I saw you last you were at the side of the Divine. I understand you were close and am sorry for your loss.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Everyone lost, Your Grace. I was not alone,” she replied indignantly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“You are right of course,” he nodded his head in recognition before turning next to Bull. “Ah, this must be the famed The Iron Bull. I have heard stories of your exploits but assumed they were exaggerations expected of the court. It appears they did not lie, a most refreshing change.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Your Grace,” Bull bowed gracefully. “I’m happy to meet your expectations. Should ever you want a better demonstration of my abilities, I would be happy to oblige.” Catlyn nearly fell over watching how gracefully Bull handled himself, forgetting for a moment that he had spent a lot of time in Orlais._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Do not tempt me, The Iron Bull. Nothing would please me greater than to renege on my duty to attend the ball tomorrow and spend the day testing each other’s prowess in the yard. Alas, I am a slave to my country after all,” he sighed in defeated acceptance. He looked around at his guests, seemingly in search of someone or something. “Forgive me, for I am getting old and my memory is not what it once was in its youth. Was there not an eighth member of your party?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“There is Your Grace,” Catlyn replied, looking around the group as well. She was not entirely surprised that her mother had held back: she was happy to have been included in the events but was not a true member of the Inquisition and thus felt it necessary to stay out of the way as much as possible. At the sound of her name, however, she gracefully exited the carriage and walked over to the group, stopping just at the edge of the gap her companions made in the circle they had formed to let her in. “May I introduce Professor Helena Damerell of the University of Orlais,” she said as she turned to face the Duke. Her eyes shot open in surprise as she registered the look of shock that was plastered across the man’s face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Your Grace,” her mother curtsied elegantly, appearing as if it were the most common thing in the world for her to do, like she had practiced it for years. “It is an honour for someone as humble as I to be welcomed into the home of a man of renowned eminence such as yourself.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________All eyes turned to the Duke who still stood rooted in place as if paralyzed by some unseen force. Had they not known any better, someone could have assumed her mother was a mage who had cast a lightning bolt on him, seizing him in position. Finally, he slowly moved forward as if in a trance, stopping just before the Professor to take her hand in his as he brought it up to his lips._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“My lady, your presence is like a warm breeze upon a frosty plain, breathing life into everything it touches. Your light makes everything shine with a luster I never knew possible. It is I who is humbled and forever grateful that you would grace us with your presence.” The Duke’s eyes never left her mother’s and Catlyn’s jaw actually ached from having dropped so low. Her mother was now blushing a furious shade of pink that surprisingly enhanced her otherwise pretty features. Catlyn had never really considered her mother in that way before but realized that despite her middle age, she had retained much of her youthfulness and beauty she remembered from when she was a young girl. As her daughter, she had only assumed that it was natural to think her mother was the most beautiful woman in the entire world and for the first time she realized perhaps she wasn’t alone in that opinion._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“You’re too kind, Your Grace,” her mother mumbled bashfully, dropping her gaze and fluttering her eyelashes demurely._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Will you do me the pleasure of accompanying me inside? I can show you around the estate personally, given it is your first time here,” the Duke offered his arm to the Professor._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Your Grace, surely you have more important and pressing matters to attend to rather than tour me around your lovely grounds. I would be happy to follow with the rest of the Inquisition,” she politely offered, looking for the first time to be slightly embarrassed at the attention she garnered._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“There is nothing more urgent in my mind, Professor,” he replied, still holding out his arm in a silently plea though he turned to Josephine for a moment. “The Inquisition is welcome to accompany us although no doubt they have more important matters to attend to than indulging an old man in his wishes. If it is a council room you require, my servants will be happy to escort you to my offices. I will have a simple meal organized for this evening as you are no doubt tired from your journey.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“That is most kind of you, Grand Duke,” Josephine bowed politely. “While we would no doubt enjoy taking in your stately grounds, there are certain matters that would require our immediate attention. Perhaps after dinner there will be an opportunity to be shown around the grounds?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Of course Ambassador. Professor? Shall we?” he looked at the woman hopefully and was rewarded with her arm._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I would be delighted, Your Grace.” With that, the pair strode off merrily towards the western gardens, leaving a dumbfounded Inquisition in their wake._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Well that is very interesting,” Josephine all but trembled in contained glee._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Clearly he is no commander of poetic discourse,” Vivienne offered disparagingly, “but he is clearly smitten with our Inquisitor’s mother.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“What is it with these Damerell women and their effect on military men,” Leliana mused impishly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“It was love at first sight,” Cassandra sighed wistfully. All eyes immediately shot her way as the group stared in shock more so than as they watched the scene between the duke and professor unfold. Cassandra immediately stiffened, realizing she had spoken out loud, and resumed her usual vitriolic stare._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Your mom’s a hot ticket Boss,” Bull nudged her side and winked at her. “How do you feel about that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Catlyn, who had been frozen in place longer than anyone, made a strangled noise in reply._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Your mother certainly is beautiful, Inquisitor. The Duke has been a widower since his wife, the Lady Calienne de Ghislain, was killed twenty years ago. Perhaps she is the warm breeze defrosting the plains of his heart,” Josephine giggled._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“What just happened?” Catlyn’s voice was strained with confusion._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Are you sure your mother isn’t Orlesian, Inquisitor? Within five minutes of our arrival she has effectively wrapped one of the most powerful men in Orlais around her finger,” Vivienne eyed her skeptically._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“After everything that has happened Viv, I wouldn’t put it past her to have kept that little secret from me either,” she sighed, her shoulders slumped in defeat._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Ah come on Boss, it’s not that bad,” Bull consoled her, throwing his arm over her shoulder and nudging her gently towards the estate. “Your mom’s been on her own for a while too, right? She could use this.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Bull, if you refer to ‘this’ in any more detail, I will cut you,” she replied evenly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Her companions’ laughter followed her all the way inside. So far Orlais was exactly what she expected: full of surprises._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	41. Halamshiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition arrives at Halamshiral and it doesn't take long for things to get interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a bit of a break from my normal back and forth POV. The last chapter was just getting out of hand, so for fluidity's sake I broke it up. Cullen will make a comeback next chapter.

Catlyn stood in the foyer with her advisors and companions, all dressed in their formal Inquisition attire for the ball. The gold buckles shone in the lamplight and the blue satin sashes set off their bright red jackets beautifully. Each member had their garments perfectly tailored to suit their unique physique and the result was, in Catlyn’s opinion, extraordinary. She didn’t think it were possible for Bull to look any more imposing than he already did, but the Qunari was positively dominating in his appearance. Cullen looked every bit like a nobleman who should be at the ball, his blonde curls carefully coiffed back and broad shoulders erect and proud. Though Josephine had grumbled about the choice of formal wear, she looked no less impressive than the rest. Perhaps the only exception that had initially roiled her was Vivienne’s alterations to her outfit. While in principle the suit was the same, where everyone else had high collars and necklines, unbeknownst to everyone Vivienne had her tailor alter hers so that the neckline plunged similarly to the outfit she typically wore while at Skyhold. When Catlyn objected, Vivienne summarily dismissed her with a simple, “As court enchanter I simply must keep up appearances darling.” Surprisingly it was Leliana who convinced her to back down, quietly advising her to leave this battle in an effort to win the war. So Catlyn had relented and kept any further comments to herself.

It was near time to leave and the group was getting impatient. Catlyn’s nerves had been getting the best of her since the previous evening at dinner where she felt woefully inadequate at everyone’s sides. She was Inquisitor and suddenly a noblewoman and what went along with that were countless expectations regarding her manners and finesse, all of which she felt completely deficient in. It seemed that everyone else around the table had far more experience in this area, including her mother who seemed to have spent far more time in formal settings than Catlyn ever appreciated. She was thankful that her mother had insisted on teaching her basic etiquette and it wasn’t that she was incapable of handling a salad fork and butter knife as was expected: it was more that she felt ill-prepared for the level of wit and banter expected of someone in her position. Seated beside the Grand Duke at dinner, she watched in amazement at how the conversation flowed so quickly around the table and she felt like she was being pulled by a swift current underwater, barely able to keep her head afloat.

She had been in Orlais for twenty-four hours and already she wanted to go close a rift.

The fact that her mother- her humble, bookworm mother- was dazzling like the sun among the stars had her seriously thrown. Even Vivienne seemed impressed by her mother’s skills. She wasn’t brazen or loud in her manner: she was unassuming and spoke softly, but whenever she did it was with class and tact that belied the modesty with which she usually shrouded herself in. She spoke a bit about her time at the university but generally managed to direct the topics away from her and on others matters: the civil war, the weather, the quality of the food they were enjoying. Anything and everything and it always seemed perfectly appropriate for the setting. By the end of supper, Catlyn was sure that she could in fact open a rift right in the middle of the Duke’s estate and he never would have noticed.

They waited now for that very couple to meet them so they could depart for the ball. Josephine was tapping her foot impatiently, concerned that they would arrive too late for it to be fashionable. Apparently there was a delicate balance between being on time and late, with one not wanting to show up too early and appearing too eager, but definitely not being the last and seeming disorganized and arrogant.

“Really Madam de Fer, how long does the tailor need with Professor Damerell?” Josephine crossed her arms in irritation. 

“You cannot rush a masterpiece my dear. You know this,” Vivienne replied casually, appearing to be unperturbed about the pace at which things were unfolding. “Besides, the Grand Duke has not even arrived yet himself. There is no hurry.”

As if on cue, the man himself strode into the foyer from the hall leading to his wing of the estate followed by a small retinue. He was decked in formal chevalier attire with a rounded gold mask in place of his more casual brass one and looked every bit as confident as his appearance suggested.

“My guests, it is good to see you again. I trust you spent a relaxing day around the grounds? I apologize for being otherwise unavailable, there were certain urgent matters to which I had to attend,” he greeted them as he approached.

“Your Grace, your hospitality has been unparalleled,” Josephine answered with a bow. In truth it had been: away from Skyhold, the group had taken the opportunity to rest in the morning with the afternoon spent either in an unofficial war council for Catlyn and her advisors or on personal matters for the others. It had been a pleasant change not having messengers and soldiers knocking on their doors every few minutes. Gaspard had made his staff available to them for whatever purpose they had and they had made good use of the opportunity.

“I am glad, Ambassador. I see you have all assembled- although I do not see Professor Damerell among you. Is she not well?” he inquired, a concerned tone in his voice.

“A minor wardrobe adjustment Your Grace, nothing of concern,” Vivienne waved her hand dismissively. “You know how we women like to look our best.”

At that moment, the Professor emerged from the hall opposite of Gaspard’s wing and entered the foyer with a calm elegance. Catlyn could hear an audible intake of breath as the group took in the sight. Vivienne’s tailor had done a masterful job of altering the gown to fit her mother’s slender body type, it having previously been done to suit Catlyn’s more muscular frame (you don’t run around Thedas closing rifts and fighting demons and not build up some musculature as a result). They had also added a drape of sheer fabric that floated across her chest, hiding what was otherwise a less modest plunging neckline suited for a younger woman, that cascaded down her shoulders and back like an ethereal waterfall. The red gown channeled the Inquisition’s colours though it was a deeper, more wine-coloured shade that enhanced the auburn undertones of the Professor’s hair, just as it had her daughter’s. She smiled shyly, blushing a similar shade as the dress, as she approached the staring group.

“I apologize for keeping everyone waiting,” she curtsied apologetically. 

“My lady, do not apologize for perfection for it cannot be attained in a moment,” the Duke stepped towards her reverently, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. “Your presence will be an inspiration in an otherwise tedious affair. Will you do me the honour of accompanying me to the palace?” he offered her his arm, completely oblivious to everyone else around him. She bowed her head in acquiescence, a small smile on her lips, as the pair made their way out to the awaiting carriages.

Josephine huffed. “Really,” she scolded no one in particular. “It is as if the Duke has completely forgotten himself. The Inquisitor is the guest of honour. She should be riding with him.”

“Truly my dear. His manners are rather lacking,” Vivienne agreed with a sniff.

“Well they do look rather similar,” Leliana teased. “And you can hardly fault a man for being blinded by love.”

Catlyn snickered. In truth she was not at all bothered by the oversight and much preferred to ride with her friends in their own carriage away from the stuffiness and formality of the Duke’s. She still couldn’t believe the turn of events that had taken place. If she managed to survive the night, she certainly going to spend a very long while with her mother discussing just where in the world she had learned to enchant dukes.

“Better hurry up before they leave us behind,” she laughed. She led the way out to the carriages and happily clamoured in beside Cullen, snuggling up close to him on the bench as Leliana and Josephine took their places across from them. Cassandra, Vivienne and Bull rode in the third carriage behind them. 

“Inquisitor, I do hope you remember everything I have taught you about court approval,” Josephine started in almost immediately once the carriage started rolling. Catlyn sighed and rolled her eyes in exasperation. How could she have possibly forgotten? The ambassador had spent the better part of the past several weeks going over etiquette and the rules of the Game with her, so much so that Catlyn was about ready to tie her up and ship her back to Antiva.

“Yes Josie, I remember.”

“Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for weakness. It is of critical importance that you maintain your wits about you at all times. Be especially careful of the Comtesse de Lanchevel. She is looking to move up by dragging others down and I wouldn’t want you to be caught up in the messes she creates.”

“How will I even be able to tell these people apart?” she complained. “I would say that I will pay special attention to stay away from opportunistic nobles, but aren’t they all like that?”

Josephine pursed her lips in disapproval. “There will be introductions of course. You need to do your best to remember to whom you are speaking,” she instructed fervently.

“Can’t they all wear name tags or something?” Catlyn mused. Cullen snickered beside her but quickly composed himself when Josephine shot him a venomous look.

“Need I remind you the importance of our success this evening, Inquisitor,” she replied through clenched teeth. “The success of the Inquisition hangs in the balance. There are many influential people here tonight-”

“And some who might want the Empress dead, don’t forget,” Catlyn cut in. “Isn’t that really why we’re here? To make sure Corypheus doesn’t send Orlais into chaos?”

“Of course it is, Inquisitor,” Leliana took up from Josephine. “We will be most effective if we play the Game, that’s all.”

“I know,” she relented, not wanting to tease her advisors any further. “I will do my very best. I will put on a smile like you have never seen before and dazzle them all. I will make you proud, I promise,” she smirked but was sincere in her promise. Her answer seemed to pacify them for the moment, so they spent the remainder of the trip to the palace in comfortable silence. Catlyn breathed deeply and allowed herself to enjoy the short while where she was resting comfortably beside Cullen, taking in his familiar scent as they watched the countryside roll by from the carriage. It’s the little things that matter, she reminded herself, and having him there beside her certainly was one of the more enjoyable things in life.

They pulled up to the palace and exited the carriage, joining Gaspard and her mother who had arrived first and were waiting for the rest of the group to join them. 

“Inquisitor, shall we?” he motioned to Catlyn, finally seeming to remember the business at hand. “You no doubt know of the contentious history between my cousin and I,” he began as they strode slowly towards the entrance. “My status at court has suffered as a result of our bickering. However, it does not change the fact that I am the rightful heir to the throne of our great country. Imagine what the Inquisition could do with my full support.”

“What would that support cost, Your Grace?” Catlyn replied evenly. She wasn’t prepared to forge any alliances without first better understanding what she was up against, and the night was still young. 

“I am not a man who forgets his friends, Inquisitor. You help me and I’ll help you. Although my cousin weaves her webs of diplomacy and lies, I command the chevaliers, the greatest soldiers in all of Thedas. It is not words that win wars, Inquisitor. It is swords.” Catlyn couldn’t disagree though she suspected Josephine might have something to say in that regard. “Are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the grand ball with the hateful usurper?”

“I can’t imagine that crowd has seen anything better than us in their entire lives,” she replied cheekily, unable to hide her smirk. 

Gaspard laughed deeply in reply. “You are a woman after my own heart, my lady. I understand now it might be genetic,” he added, glancing back at her mother who walked discreetly at the back of her group of companions. Catlyn noticed several heads turning in her direction and caught the hushed whispers of guests trying to identify the mystery woman. It seemed the dress was having Josephine and Leliana's desired effect.

As they continued their walk, he spoke again. “As a friend, perhaps there is one matter you can undertake this evening. This eleven woman, Briala- you know if her, yes?” Catlyn nodded in reply. Leliana had informed her of the elf’s implications in Orlais’ recent history and had already been advised to be aware of what the woman might be plotting. “I suspect that she intends to disrupt the negotiations,” he continued. “My people have found these ‘ambassadors’ all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes.”

Catlyn furrowed her brow. “That seems like something I should look into.”

Gaspard stopped and sighed deeply. “I don’t believe I need to ask you to be as discreet as possible, Inquisitor. There are many hidden allies of the woman and they are not always who you seem. I detest the Game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like villains.” Catlyn sympathized with the man, though she wondered if he truly despised it as he led on. From what she had seen thus far, it appeared he did but she was wise enough to withhold judgment until there was more evidence at hand.

“No one will even notice what we’re doing,” she promised. “If you’ll excuse me though, I need to confer with my advisors before making our grand entrance.”

“Of course, Inquisitor. I too have some people to speak with before entering the palace. Shall we reconvene here as the bells toll?”

“As you please, Your Grace,” she bowed politely before turning back to her advisors as Gaspard greeted a group of nobles appearing desperate to get his attention. 

“And? Any news?” Cullen asked as she approached them.

“He’s concerned about Briala,” she reported back. “Nothing new there. I’ll keep a watch for her though. Anything else we need to do before we go in?”

“Not at present,” he replied and the others shook their heads as well. 

“Alright it seems we have a bit of time then. If you don’t mind, I want to explore a little bit. Need to make sure we have escape routes covered in case things take a turn.”

“Be careful, Inquisitor,” Josephine pleaded. “If you appear too uninterested in the other guests, it won’t look favourably on the Inquisition.”

“I’ll be mindful Josie, I promise,” she smiled reassuringly before she set off to casually inspect the courtyard.

One lost ring returned and a curious storage room opened with an enchanted halla statuette later, Catlyn met back up with her advisors in the courtyard to report in on her findings.

“Well? Find anything interesting?” Leliana asked. 

“A few salacious tidbits for you Leliana,” Catlyn grinned. “That and some enchanted rooms. If you notice any halla statuettes lying about, grab them.” They nodded in reply. “Otherwise, nothing illuminating. All stairways lead back to the main courtyard and the walls are high. It would be too obvious for someone to scale them with all these people about.”

“That is consistent with our reconnaissance,” Leliana confirmed. “If there is nothing else for us out here, should we not go in?”

“Let’s get this party started,” Catlyn winked jokingly at the trio. Josephine groaned in reply while the others snickered as they all made their way towards the vestibule. 

Inside the palace, Catlyn was overwhelmed by the change in the air. Outside the cool breeze in the garden brought a lightness and sweetness to it; however, inside it was as if the iniquity of the throngs of nobles milling about soured the surroundings and filled her lungs with an oppressive crush. Heavy perfumes and liquored breaths hung in the air and the pungent smell was enough to make her stomach swirl. What was she doing here? she thought to herself. She took a deep inhale and steeled herself for what was yet to come. Gaspard greeted her at the top of the landing before they made their way through to the main ballroom. Inside people were eagerly awaiting the presentation of the most esteemed invitees. Gaspard spoke with a costumed man in an odd hat who was clearly responsible for announcing the guests before he indicated for her to follow. In the centre of the vast ballroom was a sunken floor, reached by descending a grand flight of stairs that were matched at either end. Guests lined the balustrades that circled the dance floor from above, each jostling to get a better view of the procession. Catlyn had never felt more on display before in her life.

“And now presenting, Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons,” the court herald announced in a clear voice that rang above the crowds. The hum was silenced immediately as the man continued. “Accompanying him, the Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste, Lady Catlyn Trevelyan of Ostwick.” Catlyn took a harp intake of breath as she heard her full name ring out across the room. She would need to speak to Josephine later about the full use of her name. She held her head high as she followed Gaspard down the stairs, feeling her hairs stand on end as each and every one of the people in the room fell into hushed whispers as she slowly crossed the ballroom floor. She had to fight back the urge to cloak herself and disappear, knowing for sure that it wasn’t worth risking Josephine’s ire.

She tried her best to focus on making it to the other end of the floor as calmly as possible and only vaguely heard her companions names announced as they each took their turn down the stairs. She snickered as Cassandra's barked at the man to hurry up through her shockingly long list of names and nearly spun around in horror when she heard her mother announced as “Professor Helena Trevelyan, the dowager Lady Trevelyan of Ostwick.” For certain Josephine would be hearing from her about that. Her mother wasn’t even supposed to be a part of this group but she suspected she knew how she managed to be caught up in their show. Instead she stood frozen in place, her chin held high, as she listened to the immediate reaction that rippled throughout the crowd.

Beside her, Gaspard chuckled. “Did you see their faces?” he whispered. 

“You should see mine, Your Grace,” she replied icily. “There was no reason for my mother to be involved in this. There was certainly no reason to drag our family secrets through the snake pit that is this court.”

“Inquisitor, I apologize if I offended you,” he replied and turned his face towards her slightly. “That was not my intent. I did not see the need to keep Professor Damerell in the dark on an occasion such as this. The entire court should see what an enchanting woman she is. Had I know it would have upset you, I would not have done such a thing.”

Catlyn bit her tongue. She knew it was a lie; that he knew very well she had gone out of her way to keep her mother out of the spotlight as best she could: but nonetheless, somehow she felt he genuinely regretted upsetting her and that melted a slight sheen off her frost.

She didn’t get the chance to offer a reply before the Empress approached the balustrade along with another masked blonde who followed close behind her. “Grand Duke,” she greeted Gaspard. Her voice was soft and veiled, which matched the air she held about her. “We are always honoured when your presence graces our court.”

“Don’t waste my time with pleasantries, Celene. We have business to conclude,” he answered abruptly. No wonder he had trouble at court, Catlyn thought to herself. Even she knew that was rude.

“We will meet for the negotiations after we have seen to our other guests,” she replied smoothly, ignoring his brashness. Gaspard bowed and stalked off, heading off to a terrace in search of something, or someone.

The Empress continued. “Inquisitor, it is an honour to have you as our guest. Allow me to present our cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible.” The blonde woman beside her bowed with a flourish, her smile every bit as shallow as the woman appeared. Catlyn had heard about Grand Duchess Florianne through her reports from Josephine, but wasn’t sure what to make of the woman. Gaspard had not spoken a word about his sister, which led her to believe that they were not on the best of terms. The way he ignored her through the introductions gave credence to that thought.

“What an unexpected pleasure. I was not aware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities,” Florianne said. That again confirmed Catlyn’s suspicion that the Duke and Duchess were not on very good terms. Surely he would have included his sister in his devises, unless of course he wished to surprise her as much as he wished to unnerve Celene. “I’m sure we will speak later, Inquisitor,” she added before bowing and makng her way through the crowds, out of sight. Somehow Catlyn felt like that was an ominous warning rather than a pleasant invitation.

“Inquisitor, your arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer’s day,” the Empress proclaimed. Catlyn suppressed a grimace. If someone told her once more that she was a cool wind, she would show them just how icy she could really be. “We have heard much of your exploits. They have made grand tales for long evenings. How do you find Halamshiral?”

“Superficial, vapid, and insufferable,” she longed to say. Instead she replied, “I have never seen anything to equal the Winter Palace.”

“We hope you will find time to take in some of its beauties. Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor.” Catlyn wasn’t sure what pleasures the woman was referring to. So far the most pleasurable thing here looked to be the hors d’oeuvres that Bull spotted within seconds of entering the ballroom. “We look forward to watching you dance.”

“I pray that I will do the music justice, Your Majesty,” she bowed before taking her leave. As the Empress walked away, Catlyn ascended the stairs and was stopped by Leliana who was waiting for her. 

“When you have a moment, Inquisitor. A word,” she motioned to the vestibule. Catlyn nodded as the spymaster made her way through the nobles gathering in the room while Catlyn was immediately accosted by several of the guests, all wanting their moment of glory with the famed Herald of Andraste. She did her best to put on a smile and dodge their prying questions, replying in a vague and non-committal manner. Apparently this was the right thing to do as more people crowded around her, smiling and laughing as the ladies fanned themselves and the men began recounting tales of their own exploits in battle. Catlyn had nearly had her fill before Josephine smoothly cut in and begged a moment with the Inquisitor, dragging her off to the side in merciful retreat. She was rewarded by being introduced to Josephine’s sister whom she didn’t even know existed. She wasted no time digging for dirt on her dear friend and by the time she was finished, Josephine was practically pushing her out towards the vestibule to meet Leliana.

“Good, I was hoping to catch you,” Leliana greeted her, pulling her surreptitiously off into a dark corner. “You did wonderfully, Inquisitor,” she encouraged her, smiling as she sat down on a divan. 

“I’m still not quite sure what I did Leliana, but if it’s working then all the better,” she answered as she slumped down beside her. She quickly straightened as Leliana shot her a reproving look. Always watching, she thought to herself. How can people stand to live like this? "You seem to be enjoying yourself though. Do you miss it?"

"Court? Of course, Inquisitor. The Game is a fascinating one to play, if you enjoy that sort of thing of course," she grinned as Catlyn rolled her eyes. Her face straightened again as she continued. “I know Briala is where the Duke would have us concentrate our efforts, but the best way to get to the Empress is by her side. Briala is no longer in her favour, but there is someone who is.”

“Oh?” Catlyn replied, intrigued. “How come you didn’t mention this before?”

“I could not confirm until we arrived at Halamshiral,” the spymaster explained. “Celene has always been fascinated by mysticism. Foreseeing the future, speaking with the dead, that sort of rubbish. Ask Vivienne, she was always asking her for information,” she sniffed with disdain. “When she found her advisors lacking, she found herself an occult advisor. Much to Vivienne’s chagrin,” she added, with a slight smugness Catlyn hadn’t noticed before. “An apostate who charmed the Empress and key members of the court as if by magic. I’ve had dealings with her in the past. She is ruthless and capable of anything.”

“You knew this apostate?” Catlyn asked, surprised. “I never knew you kept regular company with apostates,” she teased. “First Solas, now this occult advisor. Does Cullen know?”

“It seems I am a veritable magnet for them,” she chuckled softly. “The others are not aware and I am not able to get a message to them at this time without drawing attention. The apostate, a woman by the name of Morrigan, was a companion of the Hero of Fereldan. We traveled together for a time before the Battle of Denerim where she disappeared, along with the Hero.”

Catlyn furrowed her brow. “Do you think they left together? Might they still be together now?”

“No, I do not think so,” Leliana shook her head. “After the Hero arranged for Alistair to marry Anora, she left to nurse her broken heart. It tore her apart to see the man she loved married off to some over-ambitious traitor’s daughter. I don’t believe there was any connection with Morrigan’s sudden disappearance. She was not there for the final battle.”

Catlyn nodded her head, taking in what her advisor was saying. “So what would you have me do with this Morrigan person?”

“For now, any information we can find on her might be useful. All our leads point to the guest wing. I will coordinate with our people to find you safe passage in. Be careful, Inquisitor,” she said, rising from her seat. “There is more at play here than we know. I don’t trust the Duchess any more than I do the rest of them. We need more information if we are going to uncover what Corypheus has planned.”

Catlyn stood up and nodded in dismissal then headed towards the back of the hall only to find the doors to the upper levels locked. Frustrated, she returned to the hallway she had seen to the right of the main staircase. It appeared a little less occupied than the others and already she was desperate for a moment away. As she explored the rooms, picking up odd-looking coins and another halla statuette that she tucked away in the fold of her jacket, she was stopped by the hand of a nobleman. She turned to face him, forgetting for a moment to mask her look of annoyance.

“Inquisitor, am I disturbing you?” the man asked. She couldn’t tell whether he was sincere or not as his features were masked by an absurd face piece that all the nobles wore. She cursed their silly traditions and wished desperately she was better trained like Bull to be able to see through them regardless.

“Of course not, my lord…?” she trailed off, not recognizing the man addressing her.

“Duke Germain, Inquisitor,” he bowed slightly as he introduced himself. “I see you have arrived with my nephew, the Grand Duke Gaspard.”

“You’re the Grand Duke’s uncle?” she replied, one eyebrow raised. “I apologize, Your Grace. I was raised quite a ways away from the allure of court and am overwhelmed by its grandeur and intricacies,” she replied, hoping she sounded eloquent and not like the bumbling fool she felt. 

“It is of no consequence, Inquisitor,” he replied with a casual shrug. “Half of the people at court aren’t worth knowing anyways.”

Catlyn laughed despite herself. She hoped Josephine wasn’t lurking nearby: she was certain she would be reprimanded for the indulgence. Thankfully, the Duke didn’t appear to mind. 

“Gaspard was my brother’s eldest boy. Always a difficult child. Never listened, never did what he was told,” he explained, his tone critical. “He was raised a prince. All his life we told him he would be emperor. It was his destiny. His duty. What else should he do with his life, if not fight for his destiny?”

Something clicked in Catlyn’s mind. “You are of the Council of Heralds” she said. “It must have been a difficult decision for you, placing Celene on the throne instead of your own nephew.”

“No more difficult than deciding which general to send off to battle, Inquisitor. The Game does not allow for personal connections to get in the way of what is best for Orlais. For one’s own advancement. Everyone knows this, it is the way it is played. Those who don’t, lose. It is best not to lose, Inquisitor,” he advised her. “Gaspard has learnt this lesson the hard way.”

Catlyn kept her disapproval to herself. How can family not mean anything to these people, she grumbled inwardly. “And what of the civil war it has caused?”

“It is what it is, Inquisitor. It’s brutal and terrible- and sometimes necessary,” he answered, Catlyn detected a slight twinge of regret in his voice. “Just because we make difficult decisions with ease does not mean that they are always the right ones, nor the ones that offer the path of least resistance. It may have sparked a civil war, yes, but that does not mean that it was not without reason.”

“Yet here we are this evening, hoping that Celene’s negotiations will bring an end to it all forever. Do you think she will succeed?”

“It is not for me to think such things, Inquisitor,” he scolded her. “Whatever Celene hopes to achieve this evening will no doubt buy peace for some time, but not forever. I know my countryman and I know my nephew. This will not be the end, not truly. Not until there is only one contender left for the throne.”

“I can’t imagine you have any preferences, Your Grace?” she replied, trying to mask her contempt for the man and the Game.

“As Council, we have made our decision, Inquisitor. What I believe is no longer of consequence.”

Catlyn nodded her head in understanding. “Tell me, Your Grace, have you seen anything peculiar going on this evening? Aside from the unique circumstances under which we find ourselves, of course.”

“My niece Florianne hasn’t spoken to me at all. That’s not like her,” he clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Beyond that, Inquisitor, the evening progresses as I would expect. Gaspard bides his time impatiently while Celene positions herself with great skill. I am sure we will see many more peculiar things than this before the evening is done.”

“You are a wise man, Your Grace,” she bowed in recognition. “If you’ll excuse me, I must speak with my advisors.” Duke Germain waved his hand in dismissal as Catlyn made her way back to the hall, meandering through the various rooms and terraces along the way. Every so often she would come across whispering elves looking very guilty. She tried to pick up on their conversations as she walked by, but the only things she heard were vague and muffled. She had not much better luck eavesdropping on the other nobles either as most of the time they turned to seek her out and engage her in idle chit chat, preventing her from catching much. She felt her frustration levels mounting again and would have snapped at the next noble to speak to her, had he not been fuming about his companion who had supposedly left him to have a romp in some dark corner with an elven maid. At least someone is getting their kicks this evening, she chuckled to herself. She listened intently to the fool as he prattled on and was rewarded by a thanks and a smile for having managed to keep up the vapid smile just long enough to endure him. 

As she made her way out to yet another one of the palace’s well-appointed terraces, she was stopped by a gaggle of three giggling women all dressed in identical outfits. They claimed to be messengers of the Empress sent to advise her that the Empress looked forward to pledging her full support to the Inquisition as soon as Gaspard was defeated. Of course the Empress’s support would come at a price, she thought to herself. It seemed everything in this country did. At least Gaspard had the courtesy to speak to her directly, regardless of his title and station. She graciously acknowledged the Empress’s message and the trio left her alone in the garden. She ducked behind some walls, listening in on various conversations, storing away the useful information she picked up to share with Leliana later. It wasn’t until she noticed the balcony up above that seemed to provide access to the sealed portions of the upper palace that her curiosity was piqued too greatly to pass on the opportunity. She knew Josephine would kill her for disappearing, but the assassin in her screamed to investigate what was behind locked doors.

She cast a quick look around the garden before cloaking herself and quickly climbing the garden lattice that adorned the walls of the garden. She slung herself over the railing and landed on silent feet, careful not to attract any attention. She approached the first set of doors and opened them quietly to find herself in a grand library, suddenly wishing Dorian was there with her. She combed through the shelves and the various piles of vellum strewn about the desks, picking up notes and clues along the way. She discovered hidden passages that led to chambers full of useful items she only wished she could take with her and was about to open another locked door before she heard the bells ringing. “Shit,” she cursed, quickly standing from her position on the floor in the front of the lock and running through the library towards the doors that surely led back to the vestibule. Thankfully they were only locked from the outside and she quickly made her way back down towards the main ballroom just as the second set of bells were ringing. She slowed and composed herself before anyone gave her any odd looks, strolling jauntily towards the ballroom doors. As she opened them, a smoky, sultry voice spoke from behind her.

“Well well, what have we here.” Catlyn turned to see a beautiful yet mysterious dark haired woman approach her. She had the most intriguing yellow eyes she had ever seen and carried herself with a confident ease and smoldering gaze that brought heat even to Catlyn’s cool stare. “The leader of the new Inquisition, the fabled Herald of the Faith delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of the Blessed Andraste herself.” Catlyn grinned at the woman’s obvious skepticism. “What could bring such an exalted creature to the Imperial Court, I wonder? A former Antivan Crow, no less. Perhaps t’is you the Empress should be wary of,” she suggested, though Catlyn could tell the woman thought very little of that possibility. 

“We may never know. Courtly intrigues and all that,” she replied with a smirk. 

“Such intrigues obscure much, but not all,” the woman replied with a smirk of her own. “I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane.” Morrigan turned and walked along, indicating with a nod of her head that Catlyn should follow. “You have been busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace. Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?” she hinted suggestively.

“That’s a good question,” she replied, not wanting to give anything away. “I suppose it matters who we believe is the predator.”

“I believe we both share the same opinion on that matter, Inquisitor. Unless you are troubled by the fact that I found, and killed, an agent of Tevinter within these very walls just this night.”

“Killed? Might it not have been more useful to take him alive, my lady?” Catlyn frowned. “The dead don’t speak very easily.”

“T’is not necessary to hear them speak when they have nothing to say, only something to offer,” she replied cryptically before handing Catlyn a key. “I offer you this: a key I found on the Tevinter’s body. Where it leads, I cannot say, but if Celene truly is in danger this evening than I cannot leave her side. You have already proven your skill in subterfuge. Perhaps you can make use of its secrets.”

“I will endeavour to do my best,” she replied with a nod, taking the key from her and slipping it into her pocket. “Is it wise to leave her at all, given the circumstances?”

“T’would be a great fool who strikes at her in public, in front of all her court and the Imperial Guard.”

“I’ve seen desperate people do desperate things,” Catlyn countered. “What’s your interest in protecting Empress Celene anyways? Are you her bodyguard?”

Morrigan laughed a short, sharp sound. “Do I seem a bodyguard to you? If anything were to happen to Celene, all eyes would turn to her “occult advisor”. Even if they knew otherwise. A convenient scapegoat that I have no intention of being. There are sharks in the water and I will not fall prey to them. Not now, not ever,” she stated firmly.

Catlyn considered the woman. She knew there was more to her than the eye could see and Leliana’s warning played in the back of her mind. She looked at the woman, then down at the key, and decided to take the risk. “I think I know where this key leads. The elves, no doubt Briala’s agents, have been whispering of disappearances in the servant’s quarters.”

“The Ambassador does have eyes everywhere, doesn’t she,” Morrigan purred. “Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound and not all of them are aligned with Tevinter. What comes next will be most exciting,” she smiled mischievously at her before turning and walking away, leaving Catlyn to consider her next move.


	42. All of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end to the ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagined this scene while listening to John Legend's "All of Me". Seemed like a fitting song for the final scene.

Cullen was certain that people were taking bets on how many times it took to ask him to dance before he finally lost his mind. It seemed the only possible reason for the never-ending line of people snaking in front of him asking for such an opportunity. It wasn’t even limited to the ladies alone: no fewer than three noblemen had inquired as to his appetite for a waltz and one even went so far as to physically show his interest by a swift grab of Cullen’s derriere. He had become so accustomed to declining such offers that he began every sentence with “No, thank you.” This also apparently did nothing to deter the hopeful partners though it did earn him a rather disappointed look from Catlyn who had stopped by briefly to update him on her progress. Since then, he had trouble keeping an eye on her and last he saw she was speaking with Gaspard out on a terrace.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. From where he stood there was very little he could see that appeared suspicious. Celene was with a very small group of people and her personal guards surrounded them protectively. It appeared as if she were in no immediate danger, though he knew that to be otherwise untrue. He was left with very little else to do than to listen and watch, wait and listen. 

As he stood in his place trying to appear as unapproachable as politely possible, Catlyn’s mother slowly made her way over him.

“Enjoying the evening, Commander?” she inquired politely, trying hard to suppress a smile. She knew very well he was as uncomfortable at these events as her daughter was.

“As best as I can, Professor,” he replied with a smirk. “It takes great patience not to get too distracted by all the gossiping and keep focussed on the task at hand.”

“They are rather like a swarm of bees looking for nectar and stinging all who would threaten them,” she replied with a shrug. “Some things in Orlais never change, Commander.”

“You aren’t enjoying yourself then?” he asked.

“Of course I am, Commander. There are a few people here who I am familiar with. Former colleagues, some who were good friends despite what happened years ago. I didn’t keep in touch as after a time I needed to distance myself from that life as much as possible. That was one of the hardest parts of the ordeal, to be honest. Losing access to the research facilities at the university and seeing the end of many friendships.”

“I forgot you once traveled in familiar circles, Professor, and that this might be a melancholy reminder of the past,” he apologized.

“I see it as an opportunity, Commander. Perhaps a chance to forge what was old into something brighter and new. No need to be melancholy about such a thing,” she smiled warmly at him. He was reminded of how pragmatic she was and was inspired by her ability to keep her focus on the potential for the future, something he often struggled to do himself.

“You are truly an inspiration, Professor.”

“You are too kind, Commander,” she inclined her head in return. “Have you perchance seen my daughter around?” she asked, a slight worried frown on her brow.

“Not for a while. When I saw her last she was speaking with Gaspard on the terrace.”

A small smile curled at her lips at the mention of the Grand Duke. “I’m sure she had several interesting things to discuss with him.”

“As have you, it seems,” he added, his eyes twinkling. It was impossible to ignore how smitten the man was with Catlyn’s mother. He wondered whether she was as well or whether it was out of politeness that she went along. 

The Professor’s laugh tinkled like little bells in response. “He’s not your typical Orlesian nobleman, I will give him that. His life as a chevalier has done more to shape him than life at court has. You can tell in the way he speaks and thinks. It is more strategic and military in nature rather than diplomatic and devious. No wonder Celene was able to convince the Council that she should be favoured over him for the crown.”

“So you like him then?”

“There is much to like, Commander. There is also much to reserve judgment on. I hope I haven’t been the cause of any trouble thus far. I know I’ve garnered more attention than would have been necessary or expected.”

“No trouble at all, Professor,” he reassured her.

The Professor smiled in thanks. “I’m sure you need your full attention for what’s at hand this evening, Commander. I will leave you to it.” She bowed slightly and moved on, leaving Cullen to fend for himself again. He noticed several people gathering near them in a surreptitious attempt to listen in on their conversation which left him temporarily protected from their more direct probing. He resumed his stoic stare and let his gaze sweep the room for anything suspicious while keeping an ear open for any interesting whispers.

What he heard bothered him greatly, though it had very little to do with the Empress.

“Did you hear the Inquisitor was recently proclaimed head of the Trevelyan household in Ostwick?” some obnoxious woman gossiped not far from where he stood. 

“It was all a deep dark secret,” another woman replied. “I heard she was locked in the estate because her grandmother was jealous of her beauty.”

“I heard it was because she was secretly a mage! How else would she have known to work the spell that gave her the mark?”

The mindless chatter and baseless speculation continued throughout the night with very few people even coming somewhat close to the truth. He suspected most simply enjoyed the tales. He would have been content just to ignore them all until they started to take a slightly different turn.

“You know, she is Gaspard’s guest for the soiree. Do you think he has intentions towards her?”

“He does need an heir, after all.”

“I heard the Comte Valcourt and the Marquis de Rivalon have challenged each other to a duel for her hand following the ball.”

It seemed the nobles in attendance were almost as content taking bets on who the Inquisitor would go home with that evening as they were who would emerge triumphant from the negotiations between the Empress and her challengers. Cullen scowled at the thought of Catlyn being even remotely interested in any of the likes of them. He knew how much she struggled to keep herself composed during these kinds of events and the mere thought of her indulging any of their hopes made him laugh in scorn.

“Three, no less than three proposals!” Josephine whispered to him with smug satisfaction as she brushed by him on her way back to her position across the ballroom floor from him. He had noticed her deep in conversation with Leliana moments ago, assuming it was related to their task at hand. 

“Proposals for what?” he replied in a hushed voice.

“Her hand, obviously,” she answered with such exasperation at his apparent lack of attention. “This will do wonders for our positioning!” she nearly clapped her hands in glee before being swept away into the throngs once more.

It had never occurred to him before that a political marriage would be something they would need to seriously consider to ensure the stability and might of the Inquisition. He thought that was something only nobles had to worry about. Cullen’s heart seized slightly as the realization hit him: Catlyn was nobility. Whether she liked it or not, she was of noble blood, as pure as it could be, and with that came great expectations. They need only consider the great lengths that her grandmother had gone to in order to secure the best marriage alliance she could broker for her son.

“Commander Rutherford, is it?” a rather haughty looking older woman approached him. “Commander of the Inquisition forces. An impressive title for one so young. Might there be any other titles accorded to you ser?”

“None of as great import as that one, my lady,” he replied, clenching his jaw reflexively. 

“A pity,” she sighed. “My little Lisanne is as yet unbetrothed and we are seeking worthy suitors for her. It is a shame your titles do not extend wider than the Inquisition. There is no telling how long it will last and should it fall, everything associated with it does too.”

“Pray it does not, my lady, for if we fail then all of Thedas is lost,” he snapped at her, unable to hold onto his patience any longer. The look of disapproval she shot him nearly sent him over the edge and very well may have had Leliana not stepped in to save him. She approached him with a concerned look on her face which immediately distracted him from the pompous noble.

“Commander, a word please,” she said, taking him by the arm and leading him towards the balustrade overlooking the dance floor. Leliana motioned with her head towards the floor with a frown and Cullen quickly ascertained what had her so agitated. Catlyn had finally resurfaced and was presently twirling the Grand Duchess Florianne around the dance floor. Judging by the look on the Duchess’ and the surrounding onlookers’ faces, Catlyn was doing a good job at holding her own. Had he not spent hours watching her every move, he would have missed the telltale signs of discomfort: the way she held her shoulders, the slight clench in her jaw. She was struggling to keep her composure and Cullen only hoped the song was near its end.

“What is she doing down there?” he asked the spymaster.

Leliana simply shook her head. “I don’t know. Bull came to warn me that they’ve found some suspicious activity in the servant’s quarters. Dead bodies, secret missives. It seems as if Gaspard has been plotting something but they’re not sure what.”

“So she’s trying to get at him through his sister? He doesn’t even seem to like her,” Cullen shook his head. “What would she know?”

“Who knows. But I suspect the Inquisitor will soon enough.”

The music ended and they watched as Catlyn bowed with great flourish before she left the dance floor in search of her advisors. She looked around and caught Cullen’s eye, motioning towards the staircase. He and Leliana quickly made their way over and were joined by Josephine who immediately lavished praise on their leader.

“Inquisitor, you did beautifully. They will be speaking of that dance for years to come,” she proclaimed.

“Save it Josie, something’s not right. They’ll be talking about something else for years to come and I promise you it won’t be that dance,” she snapped. “Gaspard’s up to something but I’m not sure what. Briala is looking for an alliance but I don’t trust her either. I know enough about her history with the Empress and I can’t imagine she isn’t seeking some kind of revenge after what happened to her parents. Florianne makes the hair on my neck stick up and it has nothing to do with the awful perfume she’s wearing,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“So what’s our next move then?” Cullen asked, unsure of what to make of her suspicions.

“I was hoping you three might offer some advice,” she replied with a smirk.

“Someone needs to emerge victorious this evening, Inquisitor. Corypheus wants Orlais plunged into chaos and without that it surely will,” Leliana stated. “That doesn’t necessarily mean it needs to be Celene.”

“Leliana!” Josephine gasped. “What are you saying?”

“Celene’s negotiations may buy peace for a time, but unless a single clear, strong ruler is raised, the civil war and all the machinations will continue.”

“Who would you see emerge then?” Catlyn asked.

“If we want to see change, I say Briala is the one to lead.”

“An eleven spy?” Josephine cried out hoarsely as she tried to keep her voice down. “That is preposterous Leliana. Celene is the rightful leader. The Council of Heralds has chosen her and their word is absolute.”

“The Council may have made a mistaken, Ambassador,” Cullen argued. “Celene’s rule has done nothing but sow the seeds of discord. Gaspard was in line before her and he has the might of the chevaliers behind him. If Orlais needs a strong ruler, there is none stronger than his sword.”

“Well I’m glad to see we all agree then,” Catlyn smirked. 

“Inquisitor, I implore you, the only way to see this end peacefully is to find a way to save the Empress and secure her throne. Her diplomatic skills are the envy of Thedas. She will bring an end to the war, I assure you,” Josephine begged.

“Sometimes words are wind, Josie. They can’t hold peace together when they can be used to undermine it along the way,” Leliana countered.

“Gaspard should have been leader, had the Council not interfered. What if they regret their choice? Or what if some of them do? Is there a way to reverse the tide and see him restored peacefully to the crown?” Catlyn asked.

“Celene would never back down from what she has worked her entire life to achieve, Inquisitor,” Josephine shook her head. “The Council would also never reverse a decision. It would undermine their authority if they appeared to regret their actions.”

“What if we supported Gaspard?”

“Our influence in Orlais is not yet that great, Your Worship. We would risk any future alliance with Celene and the Council in we choose to support him. We don’t want to be seen as meddling in domestic affairs.”

Catlyn pursed her lips and surveyed her team. After a moment, she sighed. “I’m not prepared to make any decisions until I know more. I realize our time runs short. Cover for me a while longer, will you? I need to search the royal apartments for more information.”

“Be careful and make haste, Inquisitor,” Cullen urged. Catlyn nodded and swept away again. It was only as she left that Cullen noticed a smattering of small blood stains on her jacket. He sent a silent prayer to the Maker that whatever she found in those apartments wasn’t too much for her to handle.  
\---

The next half hour inched by painfully and Cullen had never felt time move so slowly before. He barely paid heed to the guests swimming around him though he felt like he was drowning in a sea of masks and deception. He was on edge and constantly scanning the room for any sign of Catlyn or the Venatori agents lurking in the shadows, ready to make their move.

Soon it was time for the Empress to address the court. As if it weren’t already full to the point of exploding, more guests spilled in from the terraces and vestibule, all wishing to see the potentially historic moment take place. Cullen fought his way as subtly as he could to position himself within eyesight of the Empress and he noticed the other advisors do the same. His eyes swept fruitlessly around the room in search of Catlyn who still hadn’t returned from her explorations. His pulse quickened as worry took over: if the Venatori were intent on assassinating the Empress, perhaps they were plotting a trap to get rid of her as well. He knew she would be with Bull, Vivienne and Cassandra but none of them wore their normal armour or carried their familiar weapons with them, having no place to hide them amongst their clothing. He knew Catlyn had hidden smaller daggers and Vivienne had no need for a staff in order to channel her magic, but he wondered what Bull and Cassandra would be able to manage on their own. How could they protect her if they had no means of arming themselves? Suddenly the idea of letting them sneak off on their own seemed wholly irresponsible.

He saw Gaspard in conversation with his sister and watched as the man’s confused face turn to follow his sister who took up position just off to the side of where Celene was the address the court. Gaspard shook his head and walked down the stairs to take up his appointed place below Celene’s stage. As the Empress began her speech, declaring that tonight the end to the civil war would be sought, a slight movement caught his eye. A familiar red coat slinked through the crowds and he watched as Catlyn’s dark braided tresses slowly made their way towards the empress. She had a fierce look in her eyes and a focus he had never seen before. She was anticipating something, that was certain. Perhaps she had uncovered the scheme and was waiting for the assassin to strike?

He watched her hesitate for only a second as the duchess took the stage. “My friends, we are here to witness a historic moment. A great change is coming,” Florianne purred dangerously, “for all of us. Isn’t that right Gaspard?”

Cullen’s eyes flickered quickly to Gaspard just in time to see him turn and stare back at his sister with great trepidation. In that same moment he heard the crowd gasp as Florianne, who had crept up behind the unsuspecting empress, thrust her arm into the back of Celene, causing the woman to cry out in pain. He turned back to find Catlyn and saw that she was struggling to push her way through the crowd as the horrified onlookers stood frozen in their spots. She finally emerged from the throngs to stand before the duchess and shouted at her, “It was never for Gaspard, always for Corypheus!”

Suddenly chaos erupted all around them as the Venatori agents materialized from their hiding places to begin their systematic attack on the imperial guards. Cullen had only a second to spare to watch Catlyn tear off onto the terrace in pursuit of Florianne. Thankfully her three companions were hot on their heels and he was relieved to see that both Cassandra and Bull seemed to have found some weapons to use. His heart twisted as he sent a silent prayer to the Marker wishing for her safety before he snapped his attention back to the situation at hand, signalling to the Inquisition agents to act quickly. He ran towards the staircase, pushing his way through the panic-stricken crowd, and quickly bent down to snatch a sword out from the hands of a fallen guard. He stood back up and dove into the fray, slashing and parrying the oncoming attacks of the Venatori agents. He noticed Gaspard at the other end pull out his sword and join in as well, happy to see that the man wasn’t all talk and no action.

Before long the Venatori lay slain on the ground amidst an equal number of imperial guards. Cullen was both relieved and proud to note that none of the fallen included any of their own Inquisition agents. With the main ballroom secured, he immediately turned his attention towards Catlyn and the duchess. He made his way towards the terrace she escaped from and joined Leliana who was headed in the same direction.

“Sister, what is the status of our agents?” he shouted over the furor. 

“They have secured the ballroom along with the imperial guard and are working their way through the remainder of the palace. We should have a report within the hour.”

“And what of the Inquisitor? Where is she?” he asked.

“She and the others took off after Florianne. My agents have reported seeing flashes of light, no doubt caused by Vivienne’s spells.”

“I’m heading after them. You should get your agents to secure Gaspard in case he is involved in this at all. I get the feeling he isn’t, but it would be wise. What about the Professor?” he added, quickly looking around to see if he could spot her.

“I will have our agents take care of Gaspard. Professor Damerell is safe. Vivienne made sure to alert her before Florianne’s attack and she has been escorted to a secure part of the palace.”

“So they knew something was happening?” Cullen frowned.

“We all knew something was happening, Commander. Evidently the Inquisitor gave them specific instructions to follow. We will know more when we find her.”

Cullen nodded and took off towards the terrace in search of Catlyn, whom he hoped to find alive and in one piece.  
\---

With the duchess defeated and peace restored to both the court and, he hoped, the country, a relative calm descended upon the palace. Cullen was both amazed and disgusted by how quickly the guests recovered from the shocking events and resumed their lavish party. Catlyn had stood by Gaspard as he gave a humble yet rousing speech, though he was sure he detected a slight slur in his voice no doubt brought on by the continued celebrations. Since then he had lost sight of her again and it wasn’t until he finally succeeded in ridding himself of a particularly persistent marquise that he found her resting on a terrace, alone. She was slumped over the railing overlooking the gardens with an air of despondence about her. He slowly made his way beside her, mimicking her pose as he rested his forearms on the railing.

“Trying hard to disappear?” he inquired with a smirk.

“Unsuccessfully, it seems,” she replied with a sigh. Cullen felt her words like a blow and his face must have shown the same when she looked at him, for she quickly shifted and rested her arm on his. “I’m sorry Cullen, I didn’t mean you. Andraste’s flaming ass, I can’t even keep my wits about me anymore,” she cursed, the look of despair clear on her smudged face.

Cullen gave a small smile and wiped a smear of blood off her cheek. “It’s been a long night for everyone,” he replied softly.

She looked into his eyes and Cullen could see a deep anguish behind them that tore at his own soul. Her usual confident air was missing, replaced by an uncertainty and doubt he wasn’t used to seeing. She took in a shaking breath and dropped her head between her arms in defeat. “I let it happen, Cullen.”

“You are not responsible for any of this,” he soothed her, rubbing her back gently as she bent over. 

“I am. I knew what Florianne was up to. She set a trap for us and confessed her plot, not expecting us to escape. We nearly didn’t. If it weren’t for Viv’s healing skills Cassandra would have lost a leg and I’m sure I would be among the corpses they dragged out of here. I knew it was Florianne who was going to assassinate Celene. I had the time to get to her. And I stopped.” She choked on the last words and Cullen was barely able to make them out. He was surprised to see her so distraught over her actions. After all, she had been an assassin before the events at the Conclave and was surely used to taking people’s lives, noble or not. Truth told, he wasn’t at all displeased with the turn of events. In his opinion, a single, uncontested ruler was the best thing for Orlais and a strong military mind was what they needed to defeat Corypheus.

He was at a loss at what to say.

“I know what you must be thinking. I kill people every day and have been doing so for some time now. But it’s not the same,” she continued as if reading his mind.

“So what’s different now?” he asked hesitantly.

Catlyn looked up and stared off into the distance. She took a deep breath before replying. “I never decided who needed to die or why, I only carried out instructions. If I didn’t agree with it, I had the option of declining the job but I never determined the targets. This is different. Celene didn’t have to die, I made that decision myself. Who am I to make these kinds of decisions? What do I know? This is all some bloody game to so many people but to me it’s the future and the lives of thousands of people and it’s all on my shoulders. What if I was wrong?” Her voice broke at the end and he could see her fight to maintain her composure, to keep the cracks from showing in her otherwise steely veneer.

It all became clear to him then. They often took for granted how naturally the leadership position came to her. She always threw herself into their cause with her complete energy and devotion; risked so much even though it was not only hard but sometimes thankless. There was always someone to question her judgment, raise an eyebrow despite all her good intentions. Here she was now, thrown into a cesspool of everything that had caused her so much grief and they had expected her not only to lead them through the fray but to do it while wearing a smile that felt no joy. At Redcliffe, she had refused to tether the mages to a life they had risked everything to abandon and the reminder that it was he who had first questioned her decision stung him. At Haven, she had given her own life to save the Inquisition, never once looking for another volunteer to do so in her place. She never even considered for a second having someone else carry out the task. Then she fought her way through a snowstorm, through the most Maker forsaken terrain, to return to them and lead them once more. The fear of disappointment was etched all over her perfect features that it pierced his heart like a twisting dagger, thinking that somehow they had not done their duty in supporting her when she needed it most. That he wasn’t strong enough to make her feel the confidence that they all had in her. That he had in her. 

Cullen gently pushed her shoulder back and stood her up, gripping her shoulders with all the strength and tenderness he could manage. She looked up at him with miserable eyes and he could see her will away the tears. “When I was in Kirkwall, I stood up to my superior for what I felt was right. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. The end result was a city in shambles, a broken order, and hundreds of lives lost. But it ended an injustice that couldn’t continue. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t pretty and Maker, what I would have given to have someone tell me that it was the right thing to do.” He looked into the depths of her brown eyes and tried with all his being to pull out her pain and pour his own care in. “I will not make the same mistake that I endured. I will tell you every day if I can that we- that I- support every decision you make. That despite the chaos and disruption it may cause, it is the right thing to do. I know this because you have doubts. You aren’t reckless, you don’t make decisions in haste and you always think of the greater good. You are willing to make the tough decisions because Maker, you are stronger than any person I have ever met. I’ve seen it in how you act. Every soldier, every villager, every person we meet along the way matters to you and if it takes the death of one to save a thousand, you will gladly bear that responsibility. I only wish you will let us help you shoulder the weight of it better.”

Despite her efforts, a single tear escaped her lashes and trickled down her cheek. Cullen gently wiped it away with his thumb, caressing the side of her face in the process. She looked so young and lost; a hopelessness in her eyes that he had never seen before or perhaps had ignored. She took in a rattling breath and replied, “How do we know Gaspard will be any better?”

“We don’t. Not for certain. But you know as well as I do, Celene’s strategy wasn’t working. She wove webs, used clever words, all to swindle the throne away from Gaspard in a selfish bid for power. That is what started this in the first place. Had she been left on the throne or even left alive for that matter, there would have been no end to the contest. Though I sympathize with the Elven cause, Briala cannot remain involved either. Gaspard has the legitimate claim, not her. Someone along the way will find a way to divide and conquer Orlais once more and I fear as much as the others that it would be Corypheus. This is the soundest strategy, though by far the most difficult.”

Catlyn blinked furiously and stared back at him before exhaling swiftly, dropping her head away from his gaze. “I wanted so badly to help make a difference. I just can’t help but feel sometimes like I’m a blind person telling someone with sight how to see.”

“You are blind if you cannot see what we all do.”

Catlyn snorted. “What is that, exactly?”

Cullen gently lifted her chin to meet his gaze once more. “Inspiration. Strength. Salvation.” Catlyn simply stared back at him in silence, tears falling traitorously down her cheeks in a stream now as he brought her into him, wrapping his arms around her to protect her from the world she was trying to save. She buried her face in his shoulder and snaked her arms around his waist, clutching him as if without him she may crumble into tiny little pieces. For a moment he allowed himself to bask in the feeling of strength and meaning she gave him and marveled and how she completed him. He tried to ignore the mounting sensation that he wasn’t, in fact, worthy of her at all: that before long, she would be lost to him, if not because of Corypheus or any of the other dangers lurking behind every turn, but to some unworthy noble who would come to seek her hand. Rightfully too, if what he had overhead this evening was of any indication. For now he pushed those feelings aside and ran his hands down her sides, abandoning himself to her perfect imperfections.

In a moment of impulse, he pulled away from her just slightly, enough to catch her eyes once more. “I may never get the opportunity to do this again, so…” he trailed off as she met his eyes questioningly. He stepped back and bowed down, extending her his hand as he grinned at her crookedly. “May I have this dance?”

She coughed out a short, incredulous laugh and wiped away her tears with her unmarked palm. “I thought you didn’t dance?”

“For you, I would do anything,” he replied and meant every word. 

She smiled shyly and took his hand as he pulled her in gently to him, holding her close as if she were the most precious thing in the world, which in fact she was. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her familiar light, honey grass scent that was mixed with a salty earthiness that came with her earlier exertions as they rocked slowly from side to side. He was a horrible dancer but neither of them seemed to mind. The music floated in and the raucous laughter of the court was only a dull murmur in the background. All he could hear was the beating of his heart. Maker how he loved this woman. The admission wasn’t as difficult as he thought it might be, but he knew that letting her go would tear him apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a lot, if not all, the fan fics I've read, it seems everyone sides with Celene. When my husband first played through, I know he did. I guess I was feeling particularly ruthless the day I played WEWH as I went with Gaspard. I found it interesting that at the end of the game, when the epilogue was playing, it seemed that Orlais does well under his unchallenged rule. When I played through again a second time, I spent more time talking to him along the day and decided that I quite like him. Can you tell? ;P


	43. Indecent Proposals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn finally hears just what Cullen is facing with lyrium.

They had stayed on at the emperor’s estate for another few days, attending his official coronation that had been organized in nearly record-breaking time according to Vivienne, and negotiating the details of the official alliance with the Inquisition. Catlyn had watched with bemusement as her mother spent a great deal of time with the emperor, still unsure of how she felt about their budding relationship. In fact, she had nearly died of shock when Gaspard announced his plans for marriage.

“Marriage?” she had squeaked when he made his announcement during dinner on their last evening at the estate. “Your Majesty, is that really necessary?” Catlyn’s eyes had shot over to her mother who simply sat across from them demurely, unflinching at the news.

“Orlais’s future will not be secure without an heir, Inquisitor,” he lamented. “Sadly, my dearly departed wife did not bear me any children nor do I have a bastard I could elevate, should it even come to that. For the sake of our good country, I will need to marry and produce an heir.”

Catlyn was far too embarrassed to ask whether or not it was still possible for him to sire such a child. He was, after all, nearing seventy years old. She bit her tongue and instead replied with great trepidation, “Are there potential candidates for this honour, Your Radiance?”

Gaspard shrugged and answered in an offhand manner, “An alliance with an old Orlesian house has been secured for many years now, Inquisitor, in the eventuality that I would regain the throne. Arrangements are currently underway with the guardians of Lady Monette, the late Duke Remache’s daughter, to have her prepared for the ceremony within a fortnight. The current situation regarding her claim to the throne in Lydes is somewhat distracting, though I understand through discussions with your ambassador that the Inquisition’s assistance may be offered to expedite the process.” 

“The matter is well in hand, Your Majesty,” Josephine reassured him immediately.

Catlyn’s trepidation turned to confusion rather quickly. She was expecting, perhaps foolishly, for the man to claim her mother’s hand after everything they had exchanged since her arrival. After all, she was now of noble class despite it being through marriage. Her court approval had soared following the grand ball and Josephine had recounted with great glee how her mother had managed to delight fully half of the Council of Heralds with such ease even Vivienne was taking notes. She was of course no longer of child bearing age, yet somehow Catlyn took offense at the perfunctory manner in which Gaspard spoke of his plans for marriage that did not involve the professor.

“I see you have everything taken care of already, Your Majesty,” she congratulated him in the most sincere manner she could manage. She tried to catch her mother’s gaze to get a sense of what she must be thinking but the professor’s eyes remained stubbornly fixed on the newly crowned emperor.

“Not quite everything, Inquisitor. There is of course the matter of the Imperial Mistress,” Gaspard replied cautiously, casting her a sideways glance. Catlyn returned his looked with a single, very raised eyebrow.

“Imperial Mistress? Is that an actual court position?” she replied bluntly. Josephine coughed uncomfortably and Leliana covered a snicker with her hand. Vivienne shrugged her shoulders in non-chalance.

“My dear, every great emperor has a mistress. It is a position of great privilege and respect. Do not forget that it was the Dowager Lady Mantillon, the late Emperor Florian’s mistress, who wielded exceptional influence over the Council of Heralds, enough to place Celene on the throne instead of Gaspard,” Vivienne lectured her. “One should be honoured to be considered for such a title.”

Catlyn’s eyes shot back and forth between Gaspard and her mother before she felt her blood chill. “You can’t be serious…”

“I understand you do not wish to part with your beloved mother, Inquisitor. May I be so bold as to say that I sympathize greatly with your feelings. She is not someone from whom one would like to be parted. She can warm a soul even in the darkest of days. That being said, I can offer her luxury and care that would be unrivalled.”

“No,” Catlyn replied, her entire body rigid. She had not risked her relationship with her advisors and friends keeping her mother safe only to have her thrown into the very core of danger without her there to protect her. “Absolutely not. It is not luxury that my mother needs. It is protection and love from those who care for her well-being beyond anything else in the world. I will not leave her to be used as an idle amusement for the eyes of you and your court.” She heard Josephine’s audible gasp as she openly defied one of the most powerful men in Thedas.

“Inquisitor, you hurt me. It is no idle amusement that I seek from your mother. Her protection is of paramount concern to me, as is her well-being-”

“Is that before or after you plan on crushing the remains of the civil war or focus your energies on helping the Inquisition defeat Corypheus, Your Majesty?” Catlyn hissed in unrestrained rage.

“Be careful, Inquisitor. I will not forget my friends quickly, but I will not let an obstreperous daughter selfishly prevent me from being with the woman I love,” Gaspard replied in a dangerous tone.

“Gaspard, Catlyn, please stop,” Catlyn’s mother’s firm voice broke in. “This is a terrible display of histrionics. Have care for the other guests around the table,” she motioned to the others seated around her. Catlyn quickly cast a glance at her companions: Josephine and Vivienne looked horrified; Cullen concentrated on his plate as if it were the most fascinating thing in the room; and Cassandra’s sheer look of disgust was palpable (though to be fair, that could have been in response to the emperor as much as Catlyn’s behaviour). She softened her tone as she continued. “Catlyn, you assume this is something that I do not need or want. It is not for you to decide that,” she chided her daughter gently before turning to Gaspard. “My dear, you will be away on many missions, both political and military, over the coming months. I have no desire to sit idly in an empty estate waiting for you to return. My daughter, my only flesh and blood, is facing the biggest threat Thedas has known since the Blight. I would not leave her now to assume my place at your side and carry on like a part of me wasn’t missing.” She held up her hand to silence Gaspard who opened his mouth to protest. “There will come a time when Corypheus is defeated and the Inquisition has succeeded when I will return to your side and stand by you as you forge a new destiny for Orlais. Until then, I have a responsibility to both my daughter and the Inquisition to assist them in any way I can. Will you accept these terms?”

Gaspard sighed and relaxed his posture. “My love, anything for you. Of course your wisdom shames us all. If the promise is your safe return following the defeat of Corypheus, it will only serve to strengthen my resolve and our alliance to forge ahead and defeat the evil that threatens our world.”

Catlyn’s mother turned to her, her face calm yet stern. She had withered under that look for over twenty years now and it appeared it had no less effective than it did when she was a child. “If this is what you want, I agree to these terms,” she replied grudgingly. 

The smile the professor rewarded them with could very well have rivalled the sun’s rays. “Excellent. Now that this matter is settled, shall we have dessert?”  
\---

“You saucy little minx!” Dorian exclaimed. “I knew there was more to you than just research and books.”

Catlyn’s mother chuckled and Catlyn smirked in response. The trio was seated in Catlyn’s chambers, enjoying a few precious moments of repose before Catlyn was set to head out to investigate the Citadelle du Corbeau in the Exalted Plains now that the Pont Agur had been repaired. Things had been busy since the Inquisition’s return from Halamshiral and Catlyn had promised Dorian that at her first opportunity, they would sit down and spill all the juicy details he missed out on. That included having her mother along to discuss her side of the story.

“It took some convincing on Mother’s part but somehow I managed to keep her here a little while longer. If it were up to the Emperor, she would be trailing about his like some lovesick mabari all over Orlais,” Catlyn added. 

“Catlyn, be nice. It wouldn’t at all be like that,” her mother admonished her.

“Oh no?” she quirked her eyebrow. “How does insisting you attend every function, every meal, every minute of his day regardless of where he is not qualify?” Her mother fixed her with a disapproving glare. Catlyn scowled and crossed her arms. “Well it seems that way.”

“I think it’s wonderful!” Dorian cheered. “Think of all the salacious gossip you will be privy to! Everyone will be fighting to position themselves at your side Helena. You are now the most sought after ally in all of Orlais. Bravo you!” he clapped merrily.

“Dorian, you are not helping,” Catlyn whined.

“Oh come off it now Catlyn, can’t you see how useful this will be? Leliana must be beside herself with anticipation and I can practically hear Vivienne purring in satisfaction. Really darling, you must look to the positive side of this.”

Catlyn merely rolled her eyes as she settled back further into the divan she was lying on. Dorian was seated at the other end, lounging languidly like a cat while her mother sat demurely in a seat across from them, watching the pair with a playful smirk. Catlyn returned Dorian’s cheeky grin with an insolent gesture before breaking out into a fit of giggles. As she sat laughing and watching her friend, she noticed a curious amulet that he wore which was unlike the one he normally took in battle. At the centre was a deep red jewel rimmed with black and at the centre, shimmering from within the jewel itself, was a curious symbol, one Catlyn had never seen before. 

“Dorian, what are you wearing?” she asked.

“Clothing my dear. A novel concept I’m sure but one I’m certain you are familiar with,” he quipped. She shot him a withering look.

“I meant around your neck. What is that strange amulet? It’s very beautiful but I don’t remember seeing it before. Where did it come from?”

“Oh this? Oh it’s nothing, just something I picked up,” he waved her off trying desperately to wave her off. Catlyn could tell it was anything but and her interest was immediately piqued.

“Whatever Dorian, nice try. You’re bluffing. I can tell because you’re playing with your moustache,” she grinned knowingly. She had learned a few tells on her own but had also picked up a few more from Cullen who had spent enough hours playing chess with the cheating mage to know when he was up to something.

He fixed her with a withering glare. “All right detective, I relent. It’s the Pavus birthright. An amulet that represents a noble line in Tevinter. It’s a heavily sought after item, certainly by those who wish to make a claim for nobility in Tevinter.”

“How come I’ve never seen you wear it before?” she prodded, trying to uncover a little more from her reluctant friend.

“It was misplaced for a time and now I have recovered it,” he replied curtly.

“Misplaced?”

Dorian sighed irritably. “I sold it after I left home. I did tell you I left with nothing, did I not? I needed some money to get me out of the Imperium so I sold it. As I said, many people would pay quite dearly to get their hands on one of these amulets.”

“How did you get it back?” she continued with her questioning.

“Does it really matter how it was returned to me?” he snapped. Catlyn returned his glare evenly, unperturbed by his discomfort. She had already made the connection in her mind and was now just trying to see what else she could extract from him directly. She went to open her mouth in reply but was interrupted by a quick rap on her door before a messenger burst in and ran up the stairs.

“Inquisitor! Sorry to interrupt but Arcanist Dagna wishes to speak with Professor Damerell as quickly as possible.”

“Mother?” she looked at the woman questioningly. “What’s going on?”

“I suspect Dagna has made a breakthrough,” her mother replied calmly. “She has been assisting me in the research for a cure for lyrium withdrawal.”

“Do you think she’s discovered something?” Catlyn’s heart leapt into her throat. With everything that had been going on lately and Cullen’s relatively stable condition, she had almost forgotten what a pressing matter finding a cure for him was. She cursed herself for becoming so complacent. “Can I come with you?”

“Of course dear. Dorian, care to join us as well? Your extensive knowledge of arcane matters would no doubt be of great assistance.”

“I would be delighted Helena,” he obliged, standing quickly to his feet. Catlyn suspected that in that moment he would have leapt at any opportunity to divert attention away from the provenance of his amulet. However, she agreed that his presence could prove useful and as one of the few people aware of what Cullen was going through, there was no issue with him being there.

“Would you please send word to the Commander that he join us in the undercroft,” she requested of the messenger who nodded quickly in reply and immediately set back out down the stairs ahead of them. As the trio made their way down to the undercroft, Catlyn couldn’t help but feel a nervous chill break out over her body. She wished fervently that Dagna had good news for them.

When they entered the work area, they greeted Harritt who was looking particularly disgruntled today before approaching the eagerly awaiting dwarf. Dagna’s excitement was palpable; Catlyn only hoped that was a good sign. Knowing Dagna, it could go either way.

“Dagna, you have news?” Catlyn greeted her suppressed trepidation.

“Inquisitor! I wasn’t expecting you! Sorry to bother you, I know you’re really busy and have a hundred things you need to be thinking about instead of spending time down here with us. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad to see you! It’s just I would have tidied up a bit if I knew you were coming. Well, that’s not really true, I’m not that tidy to begin with, but I would have at least put away the explosives!” Dagna greeted her with the same enthusiasm as a mabari puppy and Catlyn couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation. 

“How are things Dagna? I hear you have something interesting to share with the professor?” she replied.

“Yes! I do! Hi Professor, it’s really nice to see you! Oh and you too Dorian, I didn’t see you there! Wow, everyone is here! That’s really great because I’ve been working on those last notes you gave me Professor and I think I’ve made some headway. The samples you gave me were really useful too, though I think I may need some more. I hope that won’t be too much trouble. Well, I know it will be, but I’m really going to need them if I want any hope of getting the countercurrent chromatography to work with the –“

“Dagna, slow down. Start at the beginning, would you please? I’m not nearly up to speed with what you and my mother have been working on and I may need to hear it in the common tongue, if you know what I mean?” Catlyn interrupted her. Dagna had an extraordinary mind but also an excitable one.

“Right! Sorry Inquisitor. Maybe I’ll let the Professor bring you up to speed,” she offered bashfully. Catlyn turned to her mother in anticipation.

“I’ll start with a brief overview, shall I?” her mother offered. Catlyn nodded in agreement and could see Dorian do the same. “You are all aware of the various symptoms that non-mage users of lyrium suffer from, yes? And how over time its use, sustained or not, leads to the degeneration and eventual death of those who consume it? In my years researching the substance, I hypothesized that lyrium was in fact alive. Not simply organic in the way we view plants, for example, but alive with a life force and essence much similar to that of a human soul. It is a dominant substance that seeks to take over its host and has needs that are satiated only by certain things. For example, some of the tonics and elixirs that have been created over time to ease the burden placed on a person from its use or withdrawal work temporarily to respond to lyrium’s desires that in turn give temporary relief to the host. But ultimately lyrium craves a vessel in which it can propagate itself. It gives power to those who take it but in turn seeks to establish itself in the host and take over its body and cells, always hunting for a way to subsist and survive, if not thrive.”

A chill ran down Catlyn’s spine and she shuddered in response. “So you’re saying it takes over a person?”

“Very much so, yes. However, while a disease is often satisfied by nourishing itself on the host’s cells and can often be fought off by our body’s own defence mechanisms, once established it doesn’t call for more of its own kind to survive. Lyrium, on the other hand, needs more lyrium to propagate itself and is not satisfied with the host’s body alone. It either tricks the host into believing it needs more lyrium, hence the addiction, or it attempts to mutate the host’s cells in order to create more lyrium on its own. This of course can’t happen but it does lead to the degenerative effects seen by the hosts. The dreams, hallucinations, physical weaknesses- these are all a result of the lyrium attacking its system in an attempt to survive.”

“That’s horrible,” Dorian hissed. “And the Order willingly subjects its people to this?”

“The idea that lyrium is alive is not a commonly accepted fact, Dorian,” the professor replied. “There are many who don’t agree with the hypothesis. But in the face of overwhelming evidence, I believe this to be the case. As a result, a lot of my research has focussed on a way of ridding the host of lyrium, which is challenging considering that once you begin to take it, your very cells are mutated in such a way as to physically change the way you are. The longer one takes lyrium, the less likely the body would be able to survive in its altered state without continued use of lyrium, which of course only perpetuates the vicious cycle. I’m not sure I can find a way to fix the cells, but my first focus is on finding a way to remove their dependence along with the remainder of the lyrium in their system. Otherwise, without continued supply of lyrium, the cells will die and along with it, the host.”

“If lyrium is alive, can’t you just kill it like you can a disease with tonics and potions or something?” Catlyn asked.

“If only it were that simple,” her mother replied sympathetically. “Due to its magical properties, lyrium has proven immune to most natural remedies. The elixirs that have been concocted over time have given temporary relief, almost a distraction from lyrium’s relentless assault on its hosts, but they provide no cure. The only way to combat its effects is to make the host stronger than the lyrium itself so that it may fight back. However, up until now, no research has discovered a way of altering the existing host’s cells without killing them in the process.”

Catlyn’s heart fell. “So it’s impossible then?”

“Nothing is impossible Inquisitor! Well, some things may appear to be, but I like to think it’s just because no one has found the solution yet,” Dagna chimed in happily. “Professor Damerell provided me with some great research notes as well as supplies- lyrium, herbs, Cullen’s blood-”

“Cullen’s blood?” Catlyn exclaimed.

“Leeches, Inquisitor. I’ve fared worse.” Catlyn spun around to see Cullen descending the stairs into the undercroft. He looked at her with a smirk on his face but judging by the angst in his eyes, she could tell he had arrived in time to hear at least part of her mother’s explanation. He came to stand by her side and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She laced her fingers between his and refused to let go.

“Please, continue Dagna,” the Professor prompted the little dwarf.

“Right! So the blood was really useful because it allowed us to use a live specimen for the experiments. The professor was essentially stymied in her progress because she didn’t have access to dwarves and mages at the university like we do here. As she said, there is only so far you can get with potions and tonics. What we need to do is change the make-up of the cells themselves and make them strong enough to fight back on their own while still maintaining their normal properties. If you don’t do that, re-introducing them would be like poisoning the person and we don’t want that!” she shook her head pointedly.

“No, that would be very bad indeed Dagna,” Catlyn murmured, risking a quick glance at Cullen who stood expressionless at her side.

“I also learned a lot from Samson’s armour. Maddox made some amazing headway into protective runes against red lyrium. I used his tools and notes to apply some of the same concepts to normal lyrium and I think I’ve made a breakthrough! Basically what I need to do is find a way to change Cullen’s blood so that it is stronger than lyrium and can kill it without killing the rest of him at the same time. I need to do that outside of Cullen so that I don’t kill him in the process.”

“Again, very wise Dagna,” Catlyn offered, her levels of apprehension growing as the dwarf continued with her explanations.

“Then I have to find a way to get that back into him. I’ve been struggling a bit with that, but Fiona has been super helpful and we think we have a good lead.”

“Fiona?” Catlyn’s eyebrow raised. “Why is Fiona involved in this?”

“I apologize, Inquisitor, if I am overstepping my bounds,” the former grand enchanter stepped out of the shadows of the undercroft. Catlyn hadn’t even noticed her when they entered. “Dagna and I often work on small projects together and when I discovered what she was working on, I offered my services.”

“I didn’t realize you had an interest in assisting Templars, Fiona,” Catlyn replied. She was curious as to the woman’s motives and found it hard to believe that she was simply being altruistic. Her suspicions were confirmed as she watched the woman shift uncomfortably under her gaze.

“Mages are not the only ones to have suffered under the former regime. I’ll admit my motives are not completely without basis. Lyrium is not the only incurable affliction. Others suffer from similar fates as well.”

“The Wardens,” Catlyn answered. 

Fiona nodded. “Perhaps a similar technique might be used for curing the Blight.”

“But you were cured. Don’t you know how it happened?” 

“Sadly, even I am unsure as to what rid me of the disease. If I knew more, I would share it. Though I am no longer a Grey Warden, I have many friends and loved ones who remain. If I can be of any assistance, I would gladly support the cause.”

Catlyn regarded the mage with scrutiny before relenting. “Of course. We would be happy for any assistance you can provide. I trust you will remain discrete.” She commanded it more than questioned it and could tell the woman recognized the difference. She simply nodded her head in response.

“Dagna dear, what is the lead you were mentioning?” the Professor said, prompting the dwarf to continue.

“Right! So with Fiona’s help, I think I’ve found a way to extract the healing properties of royal elfroot along with amrita vein and combine them with blood by magically infusing the two. That’s where Fiona came in, it would have been hard for me to do that otherwise!” she laughed at the statement of the obvious. “Using the resulting specimen, I was able to craft a rune that would infect the host with the modified blood while protecting the rest of its viable cells from the remaining lyrium in its system. As the enhanced blood did its work fighting off the lyrium, the rune would protect the healthy cells from any further corruption. In theory what should be left over are just healthy cells.”

The room remained silent after Dagna finished. Catlyn’s heart beat faster as she weighed the risks with such an endeavour. 

“Have you tested this at all Dagna?” she heard her mother inquire. 

“I have! I’ve gotten some mixed results thus far but nothing I can’t fix up.”

“You’ve tested it! On who?” Catlyn turned to face Cullen with a horrified expression on her face. She was relieved to see he returned her look with an equally confused face. 

“Not on Curly! Oh no no Inquisitor, I wouldn’t do that. Not yet anyways. I used other ways to test it out. After all, there is no way of knowing for sure whether this could just turn a person into a big pile of jelly. I’m starting small and working my way up.”

“So what are you using then?” Catlyn asked, unsure as to whether she really wanted to know the answer.

“So far just a nug and a few rabbits. They’ve all done really well though.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about using animals for testing…” Catlyn trailed off. The thought of inflicting pain on innocent creatures didn’t sit well with her.

“There are few alternatives, Catlyn. They are treated humanely,” her mother assured her. It was surprisingly uncomforting to hear that, especially from her mother, but she kept her mouth closed for the time being. If the alternative was risking Cullen becoming a pile of jelly, she supposed she would opt for the bunny instead. Still, she vowed to take the matter up with both of them at a later date.

“When will you be ready to test it?” Cullen asked, picking up the discussion.

“Fiona and I are working out the best way to administer the procedure. We’re not sure if it’s better for the host to be awake or unconscious. We also have a few other kinks to work out in terms of the potential differences the procedures will have on a human compared to animals. We are very similar yet there are a few key differences. It’s hard to know what kind of effect this will have on certain systems such as reproductive ones,” Dagna explained.

“You mean it could render someone infertile?” Cullen asked. Catlyn’s heart leapt when she saw the hesitation registered on his face. They had spoken briefly once a while ago now about having a family but it was a passing comment, not taken very seriously. It appeared that the thought of not being able to form a family of his own meant more to him that she appreciated.

“There are many potential side effects of the procedure, Commander,” the Professor picked up. “Infertility is perhaps among the lesser of them. Some we will have time to study; some, we will not. What I do know is that every day that goes by without a cure means further damage to the system, whether lyrium is still being taken or not. In fact I believe it to be worse when someone stops as whatever lyrium is left in the system begins attacking the host stronger than before in an effort to survive. Physical degeneration is common- loss of muscle mass and strength, mobility, etc.- but also of the mind. So far it appears your body is sustaining the greatest attacks as you have yet to experience hallucinations, which are usually a side effect of the brain falling under attack first. But it is only a matter of time before it spreads further.”

The room was silent in the aftermath of the information overload. Catlyn’s mind was a whirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Go forward with this crazy procedure and Cullen may be jelly. Don’t go forward with it and he would go mad and die anyways, though in how long, it would be hard to know for sure. At least with the procedure there was some hope he may survive, faint as it might be. 

“What are the next steps then?” Cullen asked, breaking the silence once more.

“I need to work with Fiona and Professor Damerell to figure out the best way to administer the procedure and to study some of the potential side effects. My subjects are doing well so far but it’s only been a few days. I’d like some more time to run a few tests on them and see how they respond,” Dagna explained.

“More tests on the bunnies?” Catlyn winced.

“Easy ones Inquisitor! Just want to see if they can still run, jump, and eat like normal animals do. Fiona can also reach out into their minds to see whether there is any damage. I’d also like to try the procedure on a sleeping bunny but don’t have one that is sick enough at the moment to give it a try.”

“Are you feeding them lyrium Dagna?” Catlyn gasped.

“Well how else can we cure them of it?” the little dwarf replied innocently. “They’re doing really well, I promise! I’ve been feeding them modified versions of the professor’s elixir that keeps them free of pain. They’re pretty happy- see? Awww, look how he’s chewing away on that carrot!”

Catlyn glanced over to where Dagna was pointing and saw a pair of glowing blue bunnies hopping around the edges of the undercroft, munching away on various vegetables Dagna had left out for them. In truth they seemed fine, aside from the eerie blue glow. Her stomach still roiled in response. Obviously she was not meant for the research profession.

“Right. Let us know how you’re progressing. If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish preparations for the Exalted Plains.” Catlyn pulled away from Cullen’s grasp and made her way quickly out of the undercroft, unable to handle the discussion any further. She knew it was never going to be an easy feat but it all of a sudden became far more real, seeing the bunnies and Cullen and listening to the arcanist’s explanations of what they wanted to inflict on him. On her Cullen. She had just made it through the door leading up to her chambers when she heard him call out to her. She stopped and turned as he passed through the door, letting it close with a resounding thud, the echo losing itself up the vast stairwell.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his own face pale and worried.

“Me? This is hardly about me, Cullen. Are you ok?” she asked, her voice catching slightly at the end. He looked at her with a painful expression and let out a deep sigh, dropping his gaze to the floor momentarily.

“I can’t say I’m not afraid,” he began, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. “As a Templar, I grew up hearing the stories about what happened to those in the Order as they aged. Those who lasted long enough were taken off to Greenfell. I spent time there following what happened at Kinloch and saw for myself what they became in the end. The Order tried to hide it as best they could, but there is only so much that can be covered up. Those who died in battle faced merciful deaths in comparison to those who wasted away within those walls.” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and setting his jaw in determination. “I will not spend my last days in Greenfell. I would rather die than let that happen. But if what your mother is proposing has any hope of succeeding…” he trailed off.

“You think it’s worth the risk?” Catlyn asked, her voice strained. “You heard Dagna. You could become jelly!”

Cullen barked a dry, short laugh. “I’ve known Dagna long enough to know that she wouldn’t risk that. If she had any apprehension about it, she wouldn’t let me go through with it. That’s not to say there aren’t risks involved, I understand that. But the alternative isn’t any less bleak.”

Catlyn rubbed her fingers over her eyes and exhaled, letting herself lean forward into Cullen’s chest. He gently rubbed her arms and buried his face in her hair as she stood against him. It was all so unfair, she thought to herself. After a moment, she stood back up and looked up into his eyes.

“I can’t ask you to do this, nor can I tell you not to. As it stands there isn’t anything to try, so I’m going to forget we ever had that conversation and focus on what I do know, which is that there is an evil darkspawn magister who wishes to see us all dead. If Corypheus wins, we might all want to become big piles of jelly together.” Cullen snickered at her lame attempt at humour. “Promise me though that you won’t make any decision without telling me first?”

“Of course,” he replied, running his gauntleted hand down the side of her face and cupping her chin. He raised her chin gently and bent down to leave a chaste kiss on her lips. As he tried to pull back, she pulled him in closer and returned his embrace with a much deeper one of her own. The taste of his lips, the feeling of his warm mouth on hers; these were the things she needed to remember, needed to keep her grounded and to banish any weakness she may feel. In his arms she felt light and strong, like she could conquer Blights if allowed. 

They finally pulled away and stood with their arms intertwined, breathing raspy and ragged between them. What she wouldn’t give to drag him up to her chambers and feel his true strength within her, but she held back, knowing that it was best to let him set the pace. Since Halamshiral he had been slightly withdrawn and she respected any need for space he might have. Maker knew everyone had a lot on their minds.

“I’ll come by before we head out in the morning,” she whispered. He nodded in response and held her gaze as she slowly back up towards the staircase before finally turning to make her way up. She hated to put any distance between them but knew that if she didn’t continue, didn’t keep her focus, there wouldn’t be a world for them to live in. She prayed that when they succeeded, there would be a way for him to be cured, for without him there would be nothing left for her to fight for.


	44. In Love, In Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen does what he feels is right, despite how much it hurts.

While the Inquisitor was away, Cullen and the rest of the advisors focussed their efforts on determining the status of Adamant. They had finally received word from Hawke and Stroud- and it wasn’t good. Preparations were immediately undertaken to prepare the troops, for no sooner would the Inquisitor return would they be expected to set off for the Western Approach. Strangely, they had been unable to track her down after she left the Exalted Plains. They had received word that the Citadelle was safe once more but that there were a few matters that required her attention in the Emerald Graves. Scouts had reported sighting of her, Solas, Cole and Blackwall, but nothing more specific than that. Cullen would have been more concerned had he not been so distracted by preparations for Adamant. And progress on the lyrium procedure. 

He knew he should be careful not to let his hopes get too high. He knew that despite the Professor’s best intentions and Dagna’s ingenuity, that they were not the first to attempt to find a cure. He was amazed that they had even gotten this far; that there was even a glimmer of hope, as faint as it was, that they might succeed. Cullen wanted desperately to nurse that glimmer, to protect the fledgling flame and breathe life into it so that it would burst into a roaring fire; but he held back knowing that the crushing disappointment that might follow should the flicker be snuffed out would be too much to bear. 

He sat at his desk barely registering the report in front of him. He couldn’t tear his mind away from all the injustices he had faced: Isidora and the entire debacle of Kinloch Hold; the actions that led to his admittance to Greenfell; Kirkwall and all its horrors. Losing family and friends along the way had become second nature to him and it ached to know that the probability of that changing anytime soon was not very good. He chastised himself for letting his guard down once more and for allowing himself to believe that things with Catlyn might be different. Who was he fooling? She faced danger every time she set foot outside of Skyhold. Corypheus at least was in hiding somewhere: he was more concerned with the rifts, bandits, and Red Templars she faced on a regular basis. Even if she had managed to survive this long, how much longer until her luck ran out? They were about to face an indomitable fortress full of some of the greatest warriors in Thedas who had summoned a demon army to support them. They were fools if they thought they would escape harm. 

And what if they did? If Halamshiral showed him anything it was that his relationship with Catlyn was doomed the moment her uncle set foot in the fortress. He couldn’t blame the man, he likely would have done the same, faced with the same situation, but the conclusion remained the same: she was noble and with that came responsibility. She had accepted the position because she wanted to make a change and whether she realized it or not, that meant sacrificing any future they had hoped to forge together. He knew he would fight to the end of the world and back for her but even if she felt the same, she was fooling herself. Daily requests came in to Josephine for offers of marriage and though Catlyn had been successful in avoiding them thus far, it was only a matter of time before she had to accept the inevitable. 

Besides, what would he have to offer? If the Professor and Dagna did end up finding a way to cure the lyrium addiction, they admitted themselves that it could have permanent damaging effects. Even if he wasn’t a complete vegetable, Maker only knew whether he would be able to father a child. What good would he be as a husband if he couldn’t produce an heir? A family to love and protect like he had when he was a child? The thought sickened him and his head throbbed for the first time in a long time from something other than the lyrium.

He held his head in his hands and rubbed little circles in his temples. He had a decision to make and though his heart broke as a result, he knew it would be the right thing to do. As soon as she got back, he would talk to her. He would end this folly before it got any further out of hand. She deserved a better man, one who was as strong as she was and could offer her the world. Not the pieces of a broken man.

\---  
“Hey Commander, you got a second?”

Cullen stopped walking. He was on his way back to his office from the training yards when Bull called out to him. He turned to face the big Qunari who was approaching him with that confident gait of his. He stood in his place and waited for the man to reach him.

“You’ve got some really nice trebuchets out there,” Bull said admiringly, motioning with his head in the general direction of the several trebuchets that were lined up in the lower yard waiting to be taken down the mountainside. They had received some support from several nobles in the Western Approach area that included trebuchets but Cullen was adamant that the Inquisition bring a few of their own. He didn’t trust the state in which they would find the Orlesian weapons, suspicious that the nobles may only be willing to give up arms that were of little use to them following years of civil war. 

“Yes. The crews have been working day and night on them,” he replied with a small smile. He was proud of the craftsmanship the Inquisition had shown and was eager to test them out in the field.

“Test them yet?” Bull asked.

“With a few light loads. We didn’t want to risk any accidents within Skyhold’s walls should something malfunction. Why do you ask?” Cullen eyed him suspiciously.

“Well you see, I was thinking maybe we could help you test them out. You know, make sure they get good air,” Bull’s single eye twinkled with what Cullen suspected was far too much glee. He had seen that look in young boys’ eyes, usually right before they were about to do something colossally stupid. 

“I don’t think that would be necessary Bull. We have run some tests and it appears they are working properly. There is no reason to risk any mishaps before we even leave the keep,” Cullen replied.

“It wouldn’t be with anything too heavy Commander,” Bull pressed on. “Just to see how nice an arc they can make. You know, help gauge its throw distance for when we get to Adamant.”

Cullen crossed his arms and frowned. “What exactly do you want to use on these trebuchets Bull?” Cullen’s imagination conjured a variety of scenarios, most of which included some kind of explosive or animal and, if Sera were involved and he suspected she was, bees.

“Krem’s got an artistic side to him, did you know? He’s been making stuffed nugs for the past few weeks while we waited for the Inquisitor to return. A bunch of the Chargers have been taking bets to see how far they’d fly. I wagered they could only make it across the causeway but Grim figures they could make it to the encampments down below.”

Cullen stared at him blankly. “You want to use our state-of-the-art trebuchets to throw stuffed nugs at people?”

“We aren’t aiming for people Commander. We just want to see how far they’ll fly.”

Cullen shook his head in dismay. “You want me to authorize the use of our brand new weapons so that you can play with them as if they were a child’s toy?”

“Hey, whoever said anything about kids? Grace and Kieran can go get their own trebuchets, we saw these first,” Bull replied petulantly.

Cullen was about to respond when a familiar voice cut in from behind him. “What’s this now about trebuchets?” Catlyn asked, striding up to them with a swagger. Her face was flushed, likely from a hard ride, and her hair was threatening to fall out of its usual weave. For a moment the world stopped as Cullen took in the sight of her. As if it was even possible for her to appear more beautiful every time he saw her, she managed to take his breath away each time she returned from her voyages. He was momentarily speechless as she stood by him and dazzled him with a carefree smile. 

“I was just discussing the merits of testing out the new trebuchets with a little experiment Krem and the boys have been working on,” Bull offered by way of explanation. 

“Sounds like a good idea. We don’t want to find out in the field they don’t work. So what’s the issue?”

“The issue,” Cullen picked up, finally finding his voice again, “is that these are weapons and not for the amusement of Inquisition members.”

“What did you want to test them out with Bull?” Catlyn asked her friend.

“Stuffed nugs Boss. Krem’s been making them.”

“Oh so that’s what he’s been hiding every time I come in the tavern,” she replied with a smirk. “I was wondering why he kept requisitioning needles and thread. They aren’t stuffed with anything are they?” she asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

“Nah, just plaidweave. Sera thought we should try a jar of bees but they make Skinner nervous.” Catlyn nodded her head solemnly in understanding. Cullen looked back and forth between the two helplessly.

“I can’t believe you would actually consider this!” he exclaimed.

“It wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Catlyn shrugged. “Besides, think of what it would do to morale right before we march for Adamant.”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen grumbled, covering his eyes with his hand. 

“So is that a yes, Commander?” Bull inquired hesitantly.

“It’s not a no but I would leave quickly before it becomes one,” he replied, not lifting his gaze from the shield of his palm. He could hear Bull’s smile crack as the man turned and sauntered back to the Herald’s Rest. What kind of fool commander have I become, he thought to himself.

Catlyn laughed and bumped his shoulder gently. “Come on Cullen, no one will get hurt. This will be good for troops and worth a laugh. If we tell Varric, he’ll probably start a pool.”

“Don’t encourage him,” he groaned, resigned to his decision. Catlyn chuckled and turned to make her way toward the keep.

“I’d like to hold a brief council before getting cleaned up. I’m exhausted and want a good night’s sleep in my own bed before we head out for Adamant tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Already? Are you sure?” Cullen quickly caught up to her as she marched up the stairs. 

“Yes. We should have left a week ago but I got caught up in some business in the Graves. Seems I’m not the only reluctant noble that’s kicking around,” she admitted. Cullen wondered what the cryptic reference was to but suspected he and the others would soon find out. “After council, I’d like to take a bath and spend a quiet evening in my chambers. Would you care to join me?” she asked him archly. His vision was immediately blanketed by her shapely figure emerging from a steaming bath. He had to shake his head to remind himself of the decision he had made prior to her return. 

“I did wish to speak with you about a rather personal matter,” he began before she quickly cut him off.

“Good! I’ll see you after supper them,” she smiled with a finality that left him little chance to broach the matter the way he would have liked. He resigned himself to remaining patient and followed her the rest of the way to the War Room, trying resolutely to banish the images of Catlyn in a bath from his mind.

\---  
Cullen slowly made his way up the stairs, breathing deeply to try and still his racing heart. He had fought demons, felled abominations, cut through entire squadrons of soldiers, and yet nothing seemed even half as difficult as what he had to do next.

He reached the top of the stairs and cast his eyes across the room. Catlyn didn’t appear to be there, but a moment later she emerged from the back room, her hair still damp yet braided in a coiled plait at the base of her neck and wearing a cozy-looking robe. Evidently she had just finished bathing, which meant she likely wasn’t wearing anything underneath the robe. Cullen’s treacherous mind immediately flooded with images of still-damp skin, warm from the hot bath, and what it might feel like to be the fabric caressing her curves. He averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck, trying fruitlessly to wipe away the blush that was creeping up his spine.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I can come back once you’ve finished, I should have knocked first,” Cullen rambled as he turned to retreat down the stairs. Catlyn’s mischievous laugh followed him along the way.

“Cullen, don’t be silly. Stay, it’s fine,” she assured him. “We’re all adults here. Come and sit by the fire,” she offered as she made her way over to the hearth. Cullen halted his retreat and took in a deep breath. Running wasn’t going to make this any easier, he thought to himself. Like a festering wound, it was better to lance it and be done with it than let it steep and deepen.

“I really can’t stay,” he protested lamely, turning back to face her. She stood a few paces away from him, looking at him questioningly with her head cocked to the side.

“I know there is a lot to organize before we depart tomorrow, but surely you can spare a few moments with me? I only just got back and I’ve barely seen you,” she replied, her eyes slight with hurt. 

“If I stay, I won’t want to leave,” he whispered, shutting his eyes and dropping his head.

“Cullen, what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice clearly filled with concern. He stood frozen in his place, unable to formulate the words he had so carefully rehearsed in his head. “Cullen, tell me what’s wrong,” she insisted again, her tone sharper this time. “Is it the lyrium? Are you not well?”

He looked up and met her worried gaze. It would almost be simpler if he could just tell her he was dying. That the lyrium was taking his Maker-forsaken body and mind and he had but days to live. It would be closer to the truth: he certainly felt like he was dying inside. But the whispers of suitors, the threats of a future devoid of anything he could offer her, the nightmares that haunted him at night all served as a reminder that she deserved better than this. Better than him.

He took a step towards her and gently grasped her hands. “You are extraordinary in every way imaginable. You bring hope where there is despair, strength where there is weakness. You are an inspiration to every member of the Inquisition and all of Thedas believes you the Herald of Andraste. And you’re beautiful, Maker you truly are perfection,” he sighed miserably, cupping her cheek in his hand. His words did very little to comfort her, he could tell, for her frown remained and her eyes were like obsidian. “You are called upon every day to sacrifice yourself and every time you manage to survive. You deserve at the very least some happiness that someone with the proper station in life and big heart can give you. You have enough responsibilities on your shoulders and you don’t need someone else burdening you unnecessarily.” He felt hollow hearing the words pour from his mouth like a vast emptiness had taken seat in his heart leaving him heavy despite the lack of any feeling left.

“What exactly is this burden, might I ask?” she replied coolly. 

“I’m a shell of a man, Catlyn. I’ve seen more horrors in my life than a person could even dream of. I’ve had to do things that would make any honourable man or woman revile me. You know the odds of finding a cure for my sickness are slight and even if your mother is successful, I may not even be the same person on the other end. You shouldn’t have to carry that burden with you. You shouldn’t have to be chained to some husk of a creature that can’t even provide you with the basic comforts someone of your worth deserves.”

“My mother will find a way, Cullen. You’re just having a moment of weakness, that’s all. Everything with Adamant, all the preparations, the stress, it’s just weighing you down,” she stroked his brown soothingly, trying to will away his fears. “You’ll see, once this is over with it will pass. I don’t care about your past, you’ve said yourself that you strive every day to live your life with honour. That’s all that matters to me, what you do now, not what happened to you before.”

“It’s not just that, Catlyn. You know as well as I do that things aren’t the same now. Even if I were to survive the procedure your mother is working on, even if we were to survive Adamant and Corypheus, what then? I’m nothing outside of the Inquisition and you now have the world at your feet.”

Catlyn’s eyes immediately steeled over and he could see her stiffen. “What do you mean?”

“Your mother is the secret widow of a bann from the Free Marches and that was enough to elevate her in the eyes of the Emperor, so much so that he has taken her for his mistress. If that is the effect your family’s sudden change in fortune has had on her, imagine what it will have on you. You know as well as I do that Josephine and the others are courting dozens of eligible suitors that are better off for you than some Fereldan farm boy could ever be. You accepted your position as head of the Trevelyan household to make a difference. You can’t do that if you don’t marry appropriately.”

Catlyn visibly recoiled from him before she lashed back out. “Don’t you dare tell me who I can and cannot choose to marry,” she hissed. “Do you think I give a flying nug’s ass who people think I should? Yes, I accepted the position because I wanted to make a difference. I can bloody well do that without having some pompous noble prick at my side riding my coattails and plotting his next move.” She spun away and stalked towards her desk and cried out in exasperation before spinning around again and marching back up to him. “Do you think I would have accepted if I thought even for a second that it would have an impact on our relationship? How much I care for you? If that’s what this is all about then I will give it up in a second Cullen, Maker be damned! I never wanted it in the first place and if it’s what stands between me and what I truly want, then to the Void with it!” she cried desperately and clenched her fists at her sides. The mark glowed an eerie deep green in response to her barely contained fury. Cullen had never seen her quite so enraged before.

“You don’t mean that Catlyn,” he pleaded, trying to reach out to her but she was so furious she backed away from his touch. The action stung more than anything she could have shouted at him. “Out there somewhere is some kind, worthy nobleman who will make a suitable partner for you. Someone who will father your children, bring you love and happiness that is free of any haunted past and broken pieces. You have given enough. You deserve to have this.”

“Who are you to say what I do and don’t need? Don’t I get to have any say in this? This is my life, my heart, and I should be able to choose who I do and do not love. Has Cassandra been talking to you again? Josephine? So help me Maker, I will cut them if they got involved-” he cut her off as she dove into another diatribe. 

“They haven’t said anything that is either untrue or that I didn’t already know.”

“What then? Is this some lame attempt to protect me? Do you think that pushing me away now will save me from the demons at Adamant? Corypheus? I assure you Cullen, there could be nothing further from the truth, nothing further from what I need right now to see me through this all. I don’t want anyone else. I want you,” she rasped, trying to regain her composure as she stood trembling.

Cullen grimaced as he steeled himself for the final blow. He had to retain his resolve. It was better this way. She would forget him, move on, and find true happiness with someone she deserved. If he gave in now he would be doing her a grave injustice, submitting to his own selfish desire to have her in his life and call her his own. If he were truly the man of honour she claimed him to be, he had to do what was right for her now.

“You will wake up one day and see me for what I truly am. A mistake. A momentary lapse of judgment, a passing favour that would be short-lived and only bring you sorrow. I wouldn’t want that for you. No one does.”

Catlyn stood facing him with her fists clenched, the whites of her knuckles showing. He could see her clenched jaw set in an iron clamp and could feel the pain emanating from her in waves that spilled over him like molten rock, burning through him until his heart was nothing but a pile of ashes in an iron casing. “Is that your final counsel, Commander?” she replied icily. He couldn’t speak. He simply nodded his head. “As always, than you for your wise words Commander. If you would excuse me, I have a battle to prepare for.” With that, she swept out of the room and onto her balcony, leaving him to stand alone in her wake. He wanted desperately to take it all back, to reach out to her and erase the memory of the pain he caused her and lock themselves in her chambers to ignore the rest of the world. Damn Corypheus, damn the Wardens, damn the Maker blighted world. They could stay in her room forever and lose themselves in each other’s touch and let go of all the responsibility and suffering they bore as a result of everything that life had dealt them, fairly or not. Instead, he swept together the broken pieces of his heart like he had done countless times before and gingerly cradled them inside, leaving her to her hurt while he returned to his office to prepare for the battle that could end it all.


	45. Into the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The assault on Adamant begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get the Adamant chapters out together, so here goes!

Catlyn sat on a rocky outcropping overlooking where the troops had gathered. The tension in the air could snap at the slightest provocation. Trebuchets were lined up, ready to be moved into position, and soldiers lined either side of the battering ram. Formations were ready and the soldiers were awaiting the signal. This was it. The moment of truth. The first true engagement of Inquisition resources, up against the famed order that had sworn to protect the world from horrors unimaginable, hiding in a fortress that was near well impregnable. Catlyn drew in a deep breath and pushed the air out of her lungs, saying a silent prayer for everyone standing below her.

She had needed to get away for a moment before the attack began. Needed to find a way to gather her thoughts, reign in her anger. Gaspar had always told her it would get her killed one day. In honour of her former mentor, she vowed today would not be that day.

But it was hard. Maker, it was so very hard.

She had been nothing but a furious maelstrom trapped inside the confines of body, her skin a levee bracing against the overwhelming waves of anger flooding her. She was furious with them all: Clarel, Florianne, Corypheus, the Templars, the mages- every single last one of them was responsible in some way for the war they endured. She was living in a world filled with outcomes she couldn’t control and yet somehow she had been chosen to try and fix it. She hated them, each in their own way, for what they had done, for what they were doing, and for they still threatened to do. She wouldn’t resort to claiming injustice or complaining that the position she found herself in wasn’t fair. She knew enough to know that life was unfair and it wasn’t worth spending time bemoaning that fact: what you chose to do with your circumstances, and how you fought to make things better were the only things that mattered. Still, the temptation was there and as she looked over and the thousands of faces amassed below her, she wondered where their sacrifice fit in; whether they all shared the same belief about relative fairness as she did. Knowing they did everything right in the face of injustice wouldn’t kiss their loved ones goodbye, tuck their children in at night, or care for their friends they left behind. 

That anger alone could have fuelled a thousand armies, but more than anything she was ashamed to admit that she raged most against Cullen. His abandonment of her. How he gave up on her right when she needed him the most because he thought he was doing it for her own good. For the greater good. She was furious over how short-sighted he was, how honourable he thought he was being. Damn his wretched honour and all it was worth: she cared nothing for that right now. All she cared for was to have him by her side, to hold her up when she stumbled, regardless of how common he was. That never mattered to her and it wouldn’t change now that she had some title preceding her. She didn’t care that his hands trembled because of the lyrium; didn’t care that he might never bear children. She didn’t even care that he might be dying. They were all dying in a sense and what life was worth living at all if it didn’t involve being with someone who made you feel so complete you couldn’t imagine what life was like before them. She would stand by his side until his last breath, no matter when that came. The thought that he was unable to do the same for her cut her to the bone and it was this pain, this gut-wrenching agony that brought out her fury more than anything else. She had been prepared to give her heart and soul to a man who was unwilling to do the same and she cursed herself for being a fool. It hadn’t worked out for her mother: why would it work out for her?

But she wouldn’t let them see that hurt. She wouldn’t let _him _see it. She held her head high and defied anyone to see her weakness. They had chosen her as their leader and she had brought them this far. She would be damned if she faltered now. If she were truly Andraste’s chosen one, then let them see her as such. She would lead them into battle and tear down the heavens if it meant stopping Corypheus and his Venatori demons. At this moment, their survival was all she had to live for and if her sacrifice meant saving their souls, she was prepared to give it.__

__She strode down the hillside and rejoined her companions who were waiting for her, respectful of her need for solitude. Leliana was at her main scouting camp, awaiting and dispatching news as quickly as it arrived. Cullen was with the frontlines awaiting the signal to march, finalizing battle plans and strategies. Hawke and Stroud were among her closest companions who encircled her in a ring of fortitude and solidarity. When she struggled to maintain her will and focus, she knew she could count on the faces surrounding her to rise her up. Perhaps that was all she needed._ _

__“Let’s go over this one more time. Dorian, Sera- I want you focussed on the battlements and in particular in whatever cover you can provide Bull and the Chargers with as they march on the eastern flank. Vivienne, Varric, I want you on the western side to cover for Cassandra and Cole. Blackwall and Stroud are with me, along with Solas for barriers and Hawke pulling up the rear as we follow the battering ram. I plan on walking through those front gates like we own the place,” she added with a grim smirk. “Once we are all in, we find Clarel. Understood?” The sombre faces nodded back at her resolutely, their belief in her pushing her on. “Maker watch over you all,” she murmured before striding forward to give the signal to march._ _

__As she strode purposefully forward, Dorian jogged up beside her. “I’ve seen that look in your eyes before, Catlyn,” he warned. “It’s a dangerous line to walk, the one between strength and recklessness. You do realize there is more than just your life at stake?”_ _

__“I do. Thousands of Inquisition soldiers. Innocent wardens sent to die at the hands of their zealous leaders. The safety of Thedas itself. I don’t need a reminder of what’s at stake Dorian. I am reminded every day I wake up and think of what lies ahead of us.”_ _

__“While all very worthy causes, that isn’t exactly what I meant,” he replied sternly. “When hurt turns to anger it becomes far more dangerous to the wielder than it does the target. It puts you at risk of doing something you might later regret. I realize there is honour in what we are fighting for today. I just ask that you play the role of an intelligent hero and not the one that goes down in a blaze of glory.”_ _

__“I’m not trying to get killed, Dorian,” she replied bitterly. “I know what’s at risk. I promise to think first.”_ _

__“Right. Like that time you threw yourself in front of a Red Templar horror in order to save Cassandra?”_ _

__“She was in the direct line of attack, she would never have made it. I was much better protected,” she replied dismissively._ _

__“Or when you jumped on the back of that Hurlock in that old warden outpost in Emprise du Lion?”_ _

__“You mean when your mana was depleted and it was about to split you down the middle? Yes, I remember that very well. I’m not sure you ever thanked me for that,” she mused._ _

__“Blackwall was right beside it with full plate armour, a shield, and a four foot long enchanted sword, all of which would have provided better protection than your flimsy leathers and foot-long daggers,” he countered as he grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. “My point is, you have a tendency of risking your life for others even at the best of times, let alone when you are grappling with issues beside the fate of the world. I am asking you- no, telling you- to remember that there is much left for you to do and many people who expect you to come out of this in one piece.”_ _

__Catlyn stood staring defiantly into her friend’s dark eyes, daring him to try and stop her. After a moment she realized her impertinent treatment of her friend’s justifiable concern was both unfair and unkind and she relented. “Every single person that assails those walls is putting their life at risk. They chose me to lead them to it. While I won’t promise not to take the same risks that they do, I promise not to throw my life away. I don’t think anything is worth that.”_ _

__He returned her stare equally deeply and finally nodded his head in acquiescence. “I still don’t understand why I can’t come with you to the gates,” he grumbled. “My barriers are as good if not better than Solas’s.”_ _

__“But his fireballs aren’t nearly as injurious as yours, not to mention as exquisitely performed, and I really don’t want wardens throwing rocks on Bull’s head,” she smiled sweetly at him._ _

__“I am naturally gifted in that respect, I grant you that,” he sniffed as he dusted off his robes and straightened the staff on his back. “Alright. I will see you on the other side Inquisitor. Leave us some demons will you? I do love the sound they make as I send them back to the Void.” Catlyn smiled in return and continued her march towards the battlefield. She would promise not to be reckless, but she wouldn’t promise leaving him any of the fun._ _

__\----_ _

__Rocks and flaming arrows rained down over them, but the strength of her warden companions’ shields and Solas’s barrier deflected any that might harm them. On the heels of the last thrust, Catlyn strode into Adamant fortress ready to cut down some demons and lay low the host that fought within. Just as she was about to order her party onwards, she heard Cullen shout out from behind. She turned as he jogged up to her, his brow furrowed. He was as handsome as ever, despite his worried frown, and for a second all she wanted to do was reach out to him and pull him close, to hear his heart beat in time with her own and forget the madness surrounding him. She fought back the urge and stood resolutely, raising a barrier around herself to protect her from any further pain he might cause._ _

__“Inquisitor, we’ll keep the main host of demons off your back for as long as we can,” he started as he approached, ever the commander he was._ _

__“I don’t want any unnecessary risks, Commander,” she cut in. “We’re here for Clarel and Erimond but they’re mine,” she warned._ _

__“We’ll do what we have to, Inquisitor,” he replied sombrely. Just then a painful wail was heard as a body was flung over the side of the battlements, landing in a gory pile a few yards away. They looked up to see a demon appear from the top, a wicked grin plastered on its skeletal face._ _

__“There’s too much resistance on the walls,” Cullen cursed. “Our men can’t get the ladders to hold. I saw Bull nearly plunge to his death but luckily Dorian cast a barrier before he hit the ground.”_ _

__“We’ll take care of that first. Erimond can wait to die a little longer,” Catlyn replied icily as she made her way to the steps leading up to the battlements._ _

__“Catlyn wait!” he called after her. She froze and turned back to look at him. His face was etched with the strains of the inner struggle he fought and she could see fear in his eyes. He hesitated for a moment but seemed to think twice about what he was going to say. “Maker watch over you,” he said, his voice gravelly and rough as the old stone floor beneath them._ _

__A thousand words and goodbyes flew through her mind all at once, fighting for purchase on her tongue, but pride is the strongest demon of all. “Maker watch over you,” she replied gravely before turning and ascending the steps, her small party following close on her heels. There was no time for regret, no time for second glances. There was only this moment and if she lost her focus now, she would pay with her life._ _

__\---_ _

__Catlyn’s breath was ragged as she watched the scene unfold before her. Her stomach fell as she got the sense that they were moments too late. Though many of the wardens had taken up the side of the Inquisition, Clarel’s spell was too far gone, her second thoughts useless against the chain of events she had set off. Though Erimond stumbled, his angry snarl promised that they had not won._ _

__“Inquisitor, my master sent you a gift. He knew you would try and interfere once more. Say hello to your end,” he cackled maniacally as an all-too-familiar shriek rang out through the air. Catlyn’s head shot up to see the dark, ominous form of Corypheus’s dragon soar overhead and land on a rooftop overlooking the square in which they stood. For a moment the entire fortress stood frozen in fright as the bestial silhouette loomed over them. Their paralysis was broken as Clarel launched a spell at the beast, causing it to cry out again before launching itself into the air and unleashing a fiery red chain of lightning through the centre of the floor sending everyone to dodge its path. Catlyn landed awkwardly on her elbow as she dove out of the way and scrambled to her feet while gingerly cradling her arm. She looked up just in time to see Erimond flee in the same direction as the dragon. Clarel called on the wardens to fight with the Inquisition and before hesitating even a moment longer, Catlyn took off after both Clarel and Erimond. She heard the others cursing behind her but she didn’t look back, she only kept her eyes on her target. She lashed out at the demons that stood in her way with a ferocity that knew no bounds. She could feel Solas’s barrier surround her just before she turned a corner and sprinted down a narrow causeway that ended abruptly over the edge of the abyss._ _

__She watched as the pair duelled at the edge but Erimond was no match for Clarel’s unhinged fury. Her lightning spell sent him flying into the air, landing in an unceremonious heap a few yards away from where Catlyn stood. She heard Clarel shout back at Erimond who lay crumpled on the floor and could feel the commander ready her next spell, but before she could cast it the dragon deftly swooped down and snatched the woman in his jaws and bit down with a sickening crunch before flying off to the rooftop again. So transfixed was she by the sight that she barely noticed the rest of her party catch up to her on the truncated causeway. The group watched as the dragon swung Clarel back and forth in his maw like a dog with a bone before tossing her back on the ground below him. Miraculously, Clarel appeared not to be dead, struggling to right herself but succeeding only in dragging her body mere feet ahead. Catlyn made to go to the woman and help her but she was quickly pulled back by Bull just as the dragon leapt down in front of the warden. As the dragon advanced, Clarel dragged herself backwards until the dragon hovered over her, prepared to finish her off. In a sudden flash of light, Clarel unleashed her final spell on the dragon, catching it off-guard and sending it flying into the air and over the edge of the causeway._ _

__The force of the spell caused the ledge to crumble and crack then give way in a deadly explosion. Catlyn and the others raced backwards to try and outrun the collapsing ground beneath them but the speed at which the stones gave way far outpaced their legs. She heard Stroud cry out behind her and she skidded to a halt and turned back to reach for him, grabbing his arm and hauling him back over the side with every last bit of strength her slender frame could muster. As they set to running again, the destruction finally caught up to them. She stumbled before the ground gave way completely from under her and in a blink she found herself hurtling towards the deep crevasse below the ancient fortress. She had only an instant to react and in that second, she reached out in front of her and ripped open the fade in one last desperate act to save herself and her friends._ _


	46. Swallowed in Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen watches as the world falls around him.

The scene below him was pure pandemonium. Slaughtered wardens lay in a circle around a swirling green rift that had been opened with their sacrifice and demons spewed from it like a foul-smelling geyser. He knew this must have been where Clarel and Erimond had conducted the ritual but their obvious absence only confirmed that they had taken off, likely with the Inquisitor on their heels. 

He spun and hacked his way through a rage demon that bore down on him and the few remaining soldiers at his side. His sword arm ached and the hand that held his shield was numb from the continued barrage of hits he deflected. Even with the wardens fighting by their side, they were barely a match for the army of demons that Clarel had summoned. Still, he persevered, needing to find a way to get to Catlyn and find out what was happening with the Venatori and warden-commander. Both were powerful mages and he was afraid that despite her entourage, they may be overwhelmed by their magic.

His heart sank as the sinister shriek of a dragon rang out through the air overheard and a great shadow loomed over the fortress. He looked up and this time there was no mistaking the form as it flew over them and headed off towards the east side of the fortress. Cullen directed his attention there and fought his way through the hordes of demons assaulting them but there were too many and soon the onslaught was too much for him to manage. Suddenly the path before him shimmered with a red blaze as the demons immolated in a blazing fury. He glanced back from where he stood to see Dorian clutching his staff like a crutch, having likely just depleted his mana stores significantly from casting the spell. They exchanged a glance before he turned towards the direction of the dragon, Dorian stumbling slightly before following from behind. 

They fought their way through the halls and passages, the sound of lightning crashing and desperate cries ringing out before they came to a causeway and skidded to a halt as the ground beneath them trembled. He caught sight of a group of figures racing towards them, the unmistakable forms of the Inquisitor and her party desperately running away from the crumbling ledge. His body froze with shock as he watched them all suddenly disappear into the abyss, the decaying ground catching up to them before they could make it back to safety. Cullen stood paralyzed, not even seeing anything before him anymore, and missed the faint flash of green sent up from below the ledge. He heard an empty cry come from behind him before he saw Dorian stagger towards the edge, stopping a few paces in front of him. For a time he heard nothing and saw nothing else as the realization of what just occurred hit him with the force of an avalanche: the Inquisitor and everyone with her was lost into the depths of the Void, having fallen to what could only have been their definitive deaths. 

Cullen had felt pain before in his life. He had felt loss, felt guilt, regret, all of those things. Nothing could have ever prepared him for the emptiness that filled him as he stood in the ancient, demon-infested fortress. Though he was very much alive, a part of his soul died in that second and it felt like he may never breathe again. That no matter what kind of emptiness he had felt before, no matter what kind of sadness he had known, nothing could measure even half as painfully as her loss did. It was one thing to sacrifice his own happiness and desires for what she deserved more of, to give her up from his life and endure his loneliness and broken heart from a respectable distance; it was something else entirely to have her wrenched away from the world, never again to grace him with her presence or touch their lives with the effortless care she did every time she entered a room. The world stopped spinning for it had lost its sun and what was the point of moving on if it was to be cold and empty for eternity.

So lost was he in his misery that he didn’t even see Dorian’s fist fly towards his face until it made contact with his cheek, sending him reeling backwards and to one knee. So numb was he that he didn’t recoil from the Tevinter’s continued onslaught or the rattling his head felt as the man grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him within an inch of his life. 

“Both of them! Both of them are gone! What am I supposed to do now that _both _of them are gone?” he screamed at him. “Fasta vaas! I will send you to the Void to get them back, do you hear me?”__

“Dorian, stop!” Cassandra’s voice rang out through the fog in Cullen’s mind. He knew the mage was yelling at him, shaking him, hurting him, but he registered none of it. He knelt motionless, leaning heavily on his sword as the world spun around him. He didn’t need him to stop: he never felt it anyways. 

“Enough Dorian! This wasn’t his fault and you know that!” she yelled at the man and forced him away from Cullen who continued to kneel. Satisfied that Dorian wasn’t going to take up his assault on the commander once more, she moved to Cullen’s side and knelt beside him. “Commander, you have to get up. The battle is not over yet! There are thousands of soldiers caught inside of Adamant and the demons are too much for them. We need to find a way to retreat, to seal them up inside of here. We need to do something. Commander? Cullen!” she slapped him across the face. Cullen’s vacant stare looked up at her impassively. Cassandra scowled at him and cursed under her breath. She helped him up to his feet and he responded indifferently, allowing her to guide him. 

“Cullen, listen to me. Thousands of men and women still remain. They are in danger. Everything we have worked for- everything the Inquisitor worked for is still at stake. Do not let her death be in vain. You need to keep going! You promised me- you promised _her _\- you wouldn’t let anything get in the way of your duty," she growled desperately. "It is time for you to _do your duty _."____

Something she said touched him deep within. The echo of a promise, the commitment he had made. He was nothing if not a man of his word and even though there was nothing left of him, nothing left but an empty shell, he would die before he went back on his word. He wouldn’t give less to the Inquisition than he did to the Order. He had promised himself that and it was this oath that gave him the strength he needed to raise his sword and move one foot in front of the other. He stared hollowly at Dorian who regarded him with both pity and vitriol but made no move towards him. He didn’t resent the man his bitterness and pain: he was sure there would come a time where he would want to lash out at something, somebody, and hold them responsible for what had transpired too. Something told him the victim would be himself, but as he rounded the corner back towards the battleground in the courtyard, he steeled himself against those thoughts and instead focussed on saving as many Inquisition fighters as he could. He would have plenty of time for accusations and self-loathing when he wasn’t knee-deep in demon blood. If he even managed to get out of here alive.


	47. Worst Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn discovers something about her friends and herself.

Everything was wrong about the place. She felt whole but somehow not, like somehow she was the only thing that was real in a place where everything was not what it seemed. The air around her swirled with an unnatural green fog and the cliffs and rocks jutting out of the ground shimmered in an ominous way. Hawke stood parallel to the ground with her hands on her hips on the side of a rocky outcropping, gravity apparently non-existent in this realm. Blackwall and Stroud stood uneasily to the side and Bull looked as if he might be sick to his stomach. Only Solas seemed intrigued with their surroundings, which only gave credence to the coiling knot in the pit of her stomach.

“Solas… where are we?”

“You opened a rift as we fell, allowing us to pass into the Fade physically. It appears we have survived,” he breathed, his eyes wide with awe. “I never imagined I would ever be here physically.”

“It’s not how I remember the Fade,” Hawke said nervously. “I suppose it isn’t the same as when we dream, but something isn’t quite right.” She looked at Catlyn inquisitively. “The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this for you?”

Catlyn shook her head hopelessly, upset at how useless she felt. “I still don’t remember what it was like. None of this is familiar but I couldn’t tell you if it’s because it’s different or I just don’t remember.” An overwhelming sense of despair filled her as she realized she had gotten them into this mess- and she hadn’t the faintest idea of how to get them out. Her mark still glowed but its power seemed different, almost muted here. She knew without even trying that she wouldn’t be able to open a door from the inside like she could from the outside. In her last-ditched attempt to save them, she instead might have doomed them to die in the Fade, a fate surely worse than their death would have been at Adamant. She was the only person responsible for this and the weight of that reality nearly sunk her to her knees.

“I’ll fight whatever you give me Boss, but nobody said nothing about getting dragged through the ass end of demon town,” Bull called out warily from where he stood. Catlyn stared at him sympathetically as the great hulk of a man was reduced to a trembling sack of bones.

“Well we can’t just stay here,” Hawke declared. “There could be demons lurking around any corner. We need to find a way to get out.”

“What about the rift that Clarel had opened in the main hall? Could we leave that way?” Stroud suggested.

Catlyn listened thoughtfully to her companion’s suggestion as her eyes wandered around the landscape. Everything seemed barren and wasted; the haunted remains of a realm that may never have even existed. She knew the Fade often took on the appearance of the places in people’s memories and had even met Solas in an illusion of Haven once, but she couldn’t even imagine a world as desolate as this one. As she surveyed the area, she caught sight of a swirling green cloud funnel off in the distance. Judging by the colour, it could only be one thing: the rift that Clarel had opened. Her heart leapt with hope.

“Over there!” she pointed to the green beacon off in the distance. “It’s as good a plan as any.” Without waiting for an answer, she took off in that direction and was rewarded with the sound of her companions’ footsteps following close behind. 

As they walked along, she tried to seek comfort and not irritation with Solas’s obvious excitement. “This is fascinating,” he spoke aloud to no one in particular. “It is not the area I would have chosen, of course. But to physically walk within the Fade…” his voice trailed off wistfully. 

“Ah yeah. This must be a dream come true for your crazy ass,” Bull replied unhelpfully.

“Is it very different than from your dreams, Solas?” she asked, ignoring Bull’s comment.

“It is. Though it is hard to describe the difference aside from the obvious.”

“And what is that?”

“I would never voluntarily come to this part of the Fade. It is controlled by a demon and a very strong one at that. Likely Fear of some kind. This place smells of it. I choose to walk in far more pleasant places.”

Catlyn sighed. “So no words of advice then?”

“Although I have never walked this part of the Fade, I have encountered the kind of demon that controls it before. Be wary of its manipulations and prepare yourself for what will truly be a fascinating experience.”

Catlyn smiled lopsidedly at him. “That’s just what I wanted. A fascinating experience in the Fade.”

Solas smiled at her slightly. “Just because something is dangerous doesn’t mean it cannot be fascinating, Inquisitor. I expect we will learn very much by the time we find our way out of here.”

“Yes well, let’s focus on that for now, shall we?” Catlyn straightened herself and continued her way forward towards a set of tall craggy spikes appearing in the distance, hoping that the path would lead them to their way home.

\---  
The strange lake stretched out farther than she could see. Despite the stillness of the water, it appeared menacing and Catlyn skirted the edge making sure not to wade into it. Memories of the Fallow Mire haunted her, though none were as chilling as the ones this place gave her. 

Her head was swimming with memories now. Of the Conclave, the first time she entered the Fade, the outstretched hand of Divine Justinia- not Andraste- urging her forward and helping her escape. She had always known deep down that it wasn’t Andraste who had guided her, but somehow the definitiveness of the regained knowledge did little to appease her. She was not a very devout person but a part of her had almost wished it had been the Maker’s Bride who had sent her forth from the Fade to carry out her Will. It didn’t change anything for her: she still believed in everything the Inquisition was doing, everything they had done. But now she wondered whether people would follow her as fiercely as they had thus far if they knew she wasn’t truly the Herald of Andraste after all.

So lost in her own thoughts she was that she nearly missed the odd little cemetery situated in the shadow of a tall rock face, its boundary indicated by a short picket fence. She paused for a moment, curious as to what a cemetery would be doing in a place such as this. 

“Inquisitor, I believe the area we seek is just off this way,” Stroud called to her, indicating the path the rest of the party was heading towards. She glanced back at the tombs and was too curious to pass it by, drawn in by the oddity of its existence.

“Just one moment please,” she called back and turned towards the burial grounds. She slowly approached the tombstones with daggers in hand, wary of it being a trap. The faces were old and weathered as if they had been there an eternity. As she approached one of them more closely, she noticed with a start that it had a familiar name etched in it: Cassandra. She knelt beside the tombstone and brushed the dust and cobwebs off its face. Below her friend’s name was written, “Helplessness.” Catlyn frowned and moved on to the next one. It read, “Sera” and below, “The Nothing.” Next was Varric’s with “Became his parents” written in a neat script followed by Vivienne’s with “Irrelevance.” Blackwall was afraid of Himself, which left her puzzled at its meaning. Her heart beat faster as she toured each and every one of the tombs, each bearing the name of one of her companions and what could only be one thing: their greatest fear. She circled all but one tombstone and her pulse raced as she neared it, though her steps slowed to a near crawl. As she expected, the last tombstone read “Cullen” and beneath that one simple word: Loss. 

Catlyn stood staring at the writing, not even breathing. The vastness of the Fade was suffocating and her aching lungs finally forced her to take in a ragged breath. What was he afraid of losing? She didn’t get the chance to consider it any further as a gentle yet firm hand pulled at her arm.

“Boss, come on, please. Let’s get out of here,” Bull pleaded. She knew that out of all of them, he was the most unsettled in this place and his wild eyes drew pity from her. She nodded and followed him back out towards the rest of the group that was standing near the path towards the rift. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath to refocus herself before taking her place at the front of the group. There would be time to contemplate the meaning of all those tombs once she had guided them out of there. She might even have the chance to consider what her own might read.

\---  
“We need to clear a path!” Stroud shouted as the gigantic tentacled spider loomed eagerly in front of them.

“Go, I’ll cover for you!” she heard Hawke reply over the noise.

“No you were right. The Grey Wardens caused this. A Warden must-”

“A Warden must help them rebuild. That’s your job!” she retorted, cutting Stroud off midway. “Corypheus is mine.” Hawke’s determined eyes shone brightly in the face of certain death. 

Catlyn stood between the two in agonizing struggle. She knew there was no way of escaping without some form of distraction. The Nightmare was too big, too powerful in its own realm. She searched Solas’s face for any sign of hope but saw none. “No no no no….” she chanted softly to herself, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her palms against them like somehow, if she just pushed hard enough, she would shove this terror out of her head. She took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her tangled hair that had come completely undone in all the fighting, tumbling down in great waves over her shoulders. “This can’t be real,” she whispered.

“Inquisitor, this is the only way,” Solas’s even tone echoed in her mind. “You must decide.”

But how could she? Leave Stroud and she would be condemning the Order to broken remnants of a once-revered power, potentially never able to rebuild and regain the prominence they once did. Without Grey Wardens, the threat of a future Blight became far more real and significant. Leave Hawke and she would be sentencing one of her closest companion’s best friend to death. How could she ever look Varric in the eye again and tell him she was sorry? No matter what she did she faced certain disappointment and in that moment she realized her one true fear: Disappointment. It is what shaped so many of her actions in their quest for peace and always had, even as a child. She didn’t want to disappoint her mother. She didn’t want to disappoint Gaspar. Then it was Cassandra and the others, and now the entirety of Thedas’s approval loomed over her like a dark, heavy cloak, threatening to suffocate her. 

She looked at the pair who stood before her, both equally willing in their sacrifice. She stared at Hawke who looked back at her so desperately she could feel the woman’s anger seething beneath her like a bubbling cauldron waiting to boil over. She knew she wanted vengeance on Corypheus so badly it was what drove her to want this. 

“Stroud,” she spoke, her voice hoarse and broken but her eyes saying all the words she couldn’t bring herself to say. 

“Inquisitor. It has been an honour,” he saluted her proudly before turning to face the demon waiting behind them. She felt too numb to cry, the tears frozen in their place, and if it weren’t for Bull’s strong arms pulling her along with him she may well have stayed there by Stroud’s side instead of fleeing the Maker forsaken place back to Adamant to face the rest of the world. Her legs pumped as she raced behind Bull, still joined in his iron grip as he flung the two of them through the swirling rift and tumbled to the other side.


	48. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finally gives in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay- didn't feel comfortable posting until a had a few chapters up and ready. Hopefully that makes up for the break!

The onslaught of demons was relentless. 

No sooner was one dispatched to the Fade did another one appear behind it. With the doors demolished there was no way of retreating and securing the creatures within Adamant, and fleeing the fortress only guaranteed two things: first, that the demons would chase them and hunt them down until every last Inquisition soldier lay motionless on the ground. The second was admitting that the Inquisitor and her party were truly lost. Even though he couldn’t imagine another truth, a part of him couldn’t face the reality: so he fought on, doggedly hacking and slashing at the monsters attacking him. They denied him rest so he offered the same, a continuous barrage of assaults that denied them purchase in his world. He knew the rest of the party fought on beside him but even he could sense that they were tiring and losing hope. Bianca’s thrum slowed and grew distant; Vivienne’s healing spells were weak and limited; and Cassandra’s shield arm hung lamely at her side. Their efforts were waning under the strain despite their attempts to remain strong.

Despite his own valiant effort, he was only human and his limbs began to give out. He was no longer sustained by the lyrium drum that forced his body to move to its powerful beat and his muscles ached in pain. As he dispatched yet another shriek, he unwillingly sunk to his knees, his legs no longer able to carry him, and he raised his head to the sky as he readied himself for his final breath. He had given it his all- done his duty- and in death, what would he care what people said about him anyways. He watched as a despair demon fixated on his form and stalked towards him like a predator sensing a weakened prey. As the demon rose up to strike him, he whispered, “Maker take me,” and waited for the darkness to fall. 

But it never did. 

Instead, the demon hissed and drew into itself- slowly at first- then disappeared entirely with a sucking noise that stole the air around him. He stared blankly ahead at first, his mind not registering what was going on until his eyes fell upon on a vision appearing in the centre of the rift that glowed with an ethereal light. There framed in green was a woman, her arm outstretched as she pulled in the Fade energy until the entire rippling mass and every demon that surrounded them vanished into oblivion. Once the rift was closed, she remained standing in the centre of the fortress with the air about her swirling in a vicious vortex, making her long wild hair dance about her face like a ring of fire. She was the paragon of strength and hope and in his desperate state he almost believed it was Andraste coming through the rift to save them all, which seemed more plausible than the truth before him. He couldn’t let himself believe it was anyone else, not after everything that had happened. To believe she had come back, that she had survived the fall, was too much to hope for: but her eyes found his and filled him with such desperate relief that he gave in and finally let himself go, knowing that she would live on, and let the darkness claim him.

\---

When he awoke, he was lying on a plain woven cot in a dark, dusty room that smelt of dry air and hot sand. The only light was from the lamp flickering on the small desk opposite his bed, which cast shadows across the small room. He shifted uncomfortably on the cot and winced in pain. Every bone cracked, every muscle ached, and his head throbbed. It was a stark reminder that he was alive, a thought that was oddly comforting after what they had faced. He struggled to prop himself up to get a better look at both himself and his surroundings but the room swayed and he quickly abandoned the action.

“Careful Commander,” a familiar voice reached out to him. “There is no need to hurry.”

Cullen turned towards the sound and his eyes focused on the Spymaster’s slender hooded form seated in the corner of the room. She leaned forward on her seat, resting her forearms on her thighs as she watched him with gentle eyes. Judging by her relaxed pose, he gathered they were somewhere safe, though he had no idea where. Cullen wondered how long she had been sitting there- how long he had been there- and whether he ought to be embarrassed or not. He hoped he had not been unconscious long and more importantly that he hadn’t spoken out loud as he slept, something he knew he often did ever since the effects of the lyrium withdrawal had taken hold.

“Where are we?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his mouth dry like sawdust. “How long have we been here?”

“We’re at Griffon Keep. Following Adamant, the wounded were brought here to recover before returning to Skyhold. You’ve been out about seven days now, though the better part of that has been in an induced coma of sorts.”

“Maker’s breath!” he exclaimed, his outburst bringing on a coughing fit. Leliana reached over and passed him a glass of water which he thankfully accepted and downed in nearly a single gulp. “The last thing I remember is seeing someone emerging from the rift only to close it immediately behind them.” He wouldn’t admit that it was her, still afraid of losing any hope that she may have survived.

“The Inquisitor,” Leliana confirmed and Cullen let out a small sigh of relief though the true feeling he felt inside was one of immeasurable comfort and rejuvenation, and he could feel life seeping back into his miserable veins even though she wasn’t there for him to see it in person. “She and the others fell into a rift she opened as they fell off the edge of Adamant. They defeated a fear demon- a Nightmare- that was aiding Corypheus before escaping through the rift Clarel had opened. All but one made it back safely.”

“All but one?” he asked, blanching slightly.

Leliana nodded her head sombrely. “Stroud remained in order to buy the rest of them the chance to escape. The Inquisitor said he stayed in order to redeem himself and the rest of his companions following the indescribable harm they brought not only to themselves and the Inquisition, but to the whole of Thedas. She then ordered the remaining Grey Wardens to remember his sacrifice and promise that it wasn’t in vain. Her speech was tremendous, at once both scathing and inspiring,” she added, pausing for a moment. “She exiled them from Orlais and commanded them to return to Weisshupt where they could rebuild and refocus before returning one day with the trust and integrity they once stood for restored.”

Cullen exhaled deeply, impressed by the audacity of her actions and the impact they had. The fact that they obeyed her showed just how much credibility and influence the Inquisition had garnered. That was in no small part due to the Inquisitor herself and they all knew it. 

“He was a good man. He made an honourable sacrifice. I hope the rest of the wardens recognize this and live up to their word.” Leliana nodded and the two sat in silence for a moment, each allowing the other to lose themselves in thought. 

Cullen hesitated then asked, “Forgive me Sister, but why are you not with the rest of the Inquisition forces that returned to Skyhold?”

“The Inquisitor and the others returned to Skyhold to deal with the official business of having exiled the Grey Wardens from Orlais. The Emperor needed to be informed and Josephine has been beside herself dealing with all the correspondence flooding in from the rest of the world in response to the Inquisitor’s decision. I understand she has now left to investigate suspicious red lyrium activity in the Hinterlands along with Varric and an old friend of his.” Leliana sat back in her chair and fixed him with a crooked grin. “As for myself and Solas, we were left with strict orders not leave your side until you made a full recovery.”

Even in the dim light Cullen knew Leliana could see his crimson flush creep up his neck as she chuckled softly in response. 

“I never would have asked for this kind of entourage, Sister,” he replied, flustered. “Clearly you have more important things to tend to, as would Solas. I don’t think those measures were necessary.”

“You might not, but the Inquisitor surely did. It is of no matter, Commander,” Leliana waved her hand dismissively as he opened his mouth in reply. “Ravens fly to every corner of Thedas. I can just as easily conduct my work from Griffon Keep as I can from Skyhold. I also believe that Solas has found a number of interesting discoveries in the area which have kept him otherwise occupied. He assured the Inquisitor that your wounds were not fatal, though you need to take great care to ensure you don’t exacerbate them by attempting to be a brave fool. That means continued rest, Commander,” she stared at him knowingly.

Cullen stared ahead sullenly, though a part of him brightened slightly at the thought of the Inquisitor taking such an interest in his well-being. He didn’t allow the shine to glow too much, however, as it could have been simply the responsibility she felt towards ensuring the well-being of the Inquisition’s commander.

“She stayed by your side herself for two days before we finally managed to convince her that she was needed elsewhere,” Leliana said softly, as if reading his thoughts. Cullen barely contained a shy smile that crept up the corners of his mouth in response. “Pushing her away won’t change the way you feel, Cullen. It also won’t make the risk of losing her any less.”

Cullen’s eyes shot up to meet Leliana’s intense gaze. He was struck by easily she read people, but then again with her experience and in her line of work, being able to do so was to be expected.

“I thought you didn’t approve,” he huffed, turning his head and staring up at the ceiling.

“I had hesitations at first, like many of the others,” she shrugged. “It didn’t take long to see that the risk was greater if you were kept apart. You may be the only one who still struggles with that.”

Cullen’s eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. He didn’t wish to discuss his relationship or lack thereof with the Inquisitor with anyone, especially given how much it hurt to think of what he had done before they left for Adamant. He had spoiled his chances with her and was willing to accept that loving her from afar was better for everyone involved, most of all her. He didn’t need anyone shaking his resolve and encouraging any hope that things could be different.

“You haven’t eaten in days. I will send for some food,” Leliana said as she stood to leave. “I doubt we will be able to travel for another few days yet, which will give us ample time to go over what has transpired since the battle. I’m sure you will be delighted to hear that Morrigan has somehow managed to smuggle an eluvian into Skyhold.”

Cullen groaned in response. Though his opinions on mages had much improved since his time at Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall, the idea that an apostate who dabbled in old, dark magic had access to a powerful magical item did nothing to quell his anxiety surrounding the eluvian’s presence in Skyhold. And so he was callously left lying there, with the fading sound of Leliana’s laugh to comfort him, as he began to focus on regaining enough strength to return home.

\---

They only needed two more days in the Western Approach before they set off to Skyhold. In truth Cullen had appreciated his time at Griffon Keep as it allowed him to discuss various matters with Rylen whom he had stationed there to oversee Inquisition operations in Orlais. Still, the environment was hostile and unforgiving and he was surprisingly not sad to leave it for the cold, windy peaks of the Frostbacks. At least at Skyhold one could throw on additional layers to keep warm: in the Western Approach, there was no escaping the oppressive heat and never-ending sandstorms that whipped at faces and scoured away the skin. Not to mention the pounds of sand that somehow found its way into every possible bodily orifice.

He hid his disappointment when they arrived at Skyhold only to find that the Inquisitor was still out in the field. They were unsure as to when she might return and hadn’t received a raven in a while; though that was to be expected given that the party was set to travel to the Deep Roads. Cullen forced himself not to think of potential darkspawn encounters and instead threw himself into the correspondence he had missed while recovering in the Western Approach. He also spent some time with the Professor, catching up on the progress that had been made on a treatment for his condition. Apparently Dagna was hopeful that they would be able to attempt a procedure soon, though they still had no further information on any permanent side effects the treatment might have.

The afternoon following his arrival, as he was seated at his desk going over a requisition for equipment for troops stationed in the Emerald Graves, there was a knock on his door. He called out to enter and Dorian slipped in looking uncharacteristically compunctious. 

“Commander, I see you’ve made a full recovery,” the man started, walking over to the bookshelf and casually flicking through the tomes. 

“No permanent ill effects it seems,” Cullen replied politely. He vaguely remembered something about Dorian being angry with him at Adamant, though most of his memories were a blur. Judging by his friend’s cautious manner, he discerned there was some truth to his recollections.

“Wonderful. It would have been so boring being the centre of everyone’s adulation. I do enjoy the competition you provide,” he drawled nervously. Cullen quirked at eyebrow at him curiously. Obviously there was something Dorian was side-stepping and he wanted to know what it was.

“Was there something you wished to discuss, Dorian?” he asked pointedly.

Dorian inhaled deeply and let out a resigned sigh as he mumbled something incoherent in Tevene. “Apologies are not my forte, Commander. I do believe we’ve already gone over that once before.”

“Apologies? What would you need to apologize for?” Cullen replied sincerely.

Dorian looked at him suspiciously. “Do you recall what happened at Adamant?”

“Vaguely. Lots of fighting. The Inquisitor and her party disappearing into the abyss. I believe for all intents and purposes my life ended at that point,” he smiled bitterly. “Following that, more fighting. The Inquisitor and her party returning from the grip of death itself. Next I was awake on a cot in a cell deep in Griffon Keep with what felt like a thousand knives twisting in my body.”

“I see,” Dorian frowned. He appeared to consider the matter before slumping his shoulders in resignation. “There is no point in hiding anything as there was a witness to the event. After Catlyn and the others tumbled off the ledge, I attacked you and fell short of heaving you off the side myself had Seeker Pentaghast not intervened. I was upset with the outcome of the battle and held you responsible for Catlyn and the others’ supposed demise. I have since given it some more thought and have realized that was unfair and wished to apologize.” Dorian stood stiffly as he delivered his confession and looked so uncomfortable that Cullen couldn’t help but laugh.

“There is nothing to apologize for, Dorian. I blamed myself for the same thing. Given that you did not throw me over the edge to retrieve them- something I wholeheartedly appreciate, by the way- I can’t see how there is anything to be upset about.”

Dorian scoffed at him in reply and shook his head. “You are truly far too magnanimous for your own good Commander, you know that right?”

Cullen smiled lopsidedly in return. “I don’t have the energy to hold a grudge anymore Dorian.”

The mage barked a laugh in reply. “Given I have a limited inner circle of friends, I will count myself lucky.”

The pair remained silent for a moment before Cullen spoke again. “Have you seen her since Adamant?” he asked timidly.

“I have,” Dorian nodded solemnly. “To say she is shaken by what transpired is like saying Haven was upsetting, which is to say that it is a complete understatement. The nightmare they faced was harrowing and having to decide who stayed behind nearly broke her. I know she was upset after Halamshiral but this cut even deeper. She took it personally and accuses herself of selfishness when we all know the sacrifice was made willingly and for the greater good.” Dorian grunted and added, “But you know how well she listens when it comes to that sort of thing.”

Cullen nodded darkly. He would never forget the haunted look in her eyes following the Empress’s death. He recognized it far too well: it was the look of a person that had a piece of them break away and they weren’t sure whether they could ever mend it or be the same again. He had felt that same way so many times he had lost count.

“You spoke to her, I assume? Made her see reason?” Cullen asked hopefully.

“You can bring a horse to water, Commander, but you can’t force it to drink,” Dorian replied glibly, though he hesitated for a moment before adding, “It’s you who should be speaking to her. She needs you most of all.”

“What do I have to give, Dorian,” he sighed. “I can barely sign the requisitions I authorize anymore, let alone give comfort to someone who needs it. Even if I could do something, what sense would it make that it be me? I have no lands, no titles, nothing to offer- she needs something more now, something she was worthy of even before it became official.”

“You silly self-deprecating ass,” Dorian retorted. “She told me about that little argument. Do you know how extraordinarily hypocritical that makes you? How offensive that is for her? You can’t really think she gives a whore’s ass whether you are nobility or not. But that’s not really what this is about anyways, is it? It’s just one more clever excuse you can think of to avoid getting to the hard truth of the matter, which is that you are a scared little man who doesn’t have the nerve to stand up and believe that he deserves this just as much as she does.”

“It’s not that easy, Dorian,” he replied hotly. “Whether she likes it or not, that does change things. Add to that the fact that I may very well die before we ever see the end of Corypheus because of this Maker-damned lyrium and I will not set her up for that kind of heartache and loss. I have felt it before and it can break a person. She will not be broken- I refuse to let that happen.”

“That isn’t your decision to make Cullen. She is a grown woman with a very capable mind. If that is a risk she wants to take, let her take it.”

“It’s not only her decision to make, it’s mine too,” he nearly shouted at the man.

“You are trying to protect her but can’t you see you’re only making it worse?” Dorian cried out at him in return. Cullen stared helplessly at him, anger and bitterness welling up inside his chest. “I can’t hold your hand through this and I can’t force you to do something you are not willing to do. But Void take me, I’ll be damned if I let you stand here and tell me that you don’t care for her and want what’s best. I don’t believe it. Now stop wallowing in your own self-pity, grow some balls, and go do what’s right for you both.” With that, he spun grandly on his heel and stomped out of Cullen’s office, opening the door with a flourish and leaving it to slam against the stone walls with an echo that reverberated through the tower. Cullen cursed silently and walked over to the door to slam it back shut, then he stomped over to his desk in search of any readily available object for him to unleash his pent up rage on. He settled for a particularly heavy-looking ink well that left an impressive splatter against the wall.

Despite his protests, he knew Dorian was right. Catlyn was very much a grown woman, capable of making much tougher decisions than whether or not to maintain relations with a common rebel order commander. She had known for some time now what he was facing with his lyrium withdrawal and still that had done nothing to dissuade her. It was as if there was an invisible force pulling them together, like gravity pulling the world around the sun, and he was incapable of stopping it even though he tried, and he only did so because he thought it would keep her safe and himself whole. The truth was, they were neither without the other and now he had gone and ruined everything. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed her to appear, still wanting desperately to see her with his own eyes after everything that had happened at Adamant. Somehow not doing so meant there was still a chance she didn’t survive, that he was caught in some never-ending circuit in his brain that kept him from the truth. Perhaps it was his own mind trying to protect what little sanity he had left, he didn’t know. What he did know is that he would give anything just to see her once more, if only for a moment.

\---

It was late and by any reasonable standards, he should have gone to bed by now. His eyes were heavy but he pushed through, not wanting to give in to another night of terrors and dark dreams. Another week had gone by and still no word on when the Inquisitor would return. Vague reports had come in following the Deep Roads expedition but nothing regarding her estimated time of arrival. That did nothing to alleviate his concern or help him sleep at night. He dropped his throbbing head into his trembling hands and rubbed his face, hoping to wipe away the exhaustion he felt but to no avail.

When he looked up, he was startled to see the Inquisitor standing in front of the doorway. She was still wearing her travel garb and she looked exhausted, like it had been a long hard ride to get there. Her boots were muddy and wisps of hair escaped her carefully plaited locks and clung to her damp brow. He never heard the door open and didn’t even notice her presence in the room. He wondered how long she had been standing there and whether or not his mind was playing tricks on him. He rubbed his eyes and blinked but she was still there, arms crossed, eyes fixated on him with an intense stare that melted his insides. She made no move to approach him, nor did she open her mouth to greet him. He was hurt by the giant chasm that seemed to have spread between them- but not surprised. He couldn’t expect things to be any different after what he had said and done but it hurt all the same. He bowed his head and sighed, churning over in his head what it was he wanted to say but nothing seemed adequate.

“It’s really good to see you,” he settled on finally. It was the truth, after all. The vacant hole in his chest filled at her sight and for the first time in over two weeks, the dull ache her absence had caused relented.

She gave him a small smile in return, though she remained stationed by the door, arms folded protectively over her chest. “I’m happy to see you have recovered.”

Then, silence. Eternal, long, painful silence. Cullen didn’t know what to say or do, so he just sat there staring at her, memorizing every last feature, every curve of her form, and watched her familiar nervous fidget. If he were to stand on the other side of the divide between them, forever apart from her, he wanted to take the opportunity to commit to his failing memory every part of her so that he could close his eyes and imagine everything that once was and could have been. He only wished she were closer so that he could take in her familiar honey grass smell too.

Finally, Catlyn was the one to break the silence. “When I was in the Fade, I found a cemetery,” she began, slowly pacing the room as she spoke. She walked towards the bookshelf, admiring the heavy shelves with great concentration, and as she approached him the air in the room followed and teased him with a vague hint of her scent. He instinctively inhaled deeply, desperately grasping at any taste he could get. “It was such an odd thing to see, so I approached it to get a better look. There I found the tombstones of all of my friends and advisors.” She shuddered involuntarily at the memory and shut her eyes.

“Demons will do anything to disturb a person, but the images it conjures are just that, images of things meant to upset and scare you, not necessarily reflections of future or reality,” he replied softly, trying to say anything to soothe her anxiety.

“I knew they weren’t real, in the sense that the people I loved weren’t dead,” she waved her hand dismissively. “It was something else that I found curious. Engraved on the tombstones were the greatest fears of each person. Some I understood and they came as no surprise. Imagine what irrelevance means to Vivienne,” she snorted and shot him a wry grin before furrowing her brow once more. “Others I’m still trying to understand. One in particular has me puzzled and I hoped you might be able to shed some light on it.”

Cullen swallowed hard and shifted in his seat. “Anything to help,” he answered.

She turned and stepped towards him, stopping within a foot of him to look down into his eyes searchingly. “What are you afraid of losing?” she asked, her voice hushed and deep.

Cullen blanched and sat unblinking at her. He couldn’t deny her what she asked, but how could he explain himself in a way that made any sense? There was so much he was afraid of losing but it all came down to one thing in particular and he didn’t want her to share that burden. But Dorian’s advice came floating back to him and reminded him that he if truly cared for her and wanted to be a part of her life, holding back would only hurt them both.

He took in a deep steadying breath and opened up. “So much of what has happened to me has left me broken and in pieces, and I have spent the better part of a decade grasping for them and trying to put them back together. I haven’t succeeded in replacing them all but I’ve repaired them as best as I can. But they’re weak, barely held together, and there is always the risk that they will come tumbling apart at the worst moment, endangering everything and everyone around me. Losing what I’ve rebuilt, losing what I have built…” he trailed off. She remained motionless; her gaze fixed on his, so he inhaled deeply and continued. “I have been broken and rebuilt so many times and each time I lose little bits of me. Sometimes I manage to replace them, other times a hole remains. I’m not sure how much more of that I can take.” 

They fell into silence again and Cullen watched as Catlyn’s eyes shone with compassion and desire. He could tell she was formulating a response, trying to find a way to bridge the gap, and if she did, he wasn’t sure he could resist her but he didn’t want to hurt her any more than he already had. He pushed his chair back to stand in front of her and took in a serrated breath.

“You have filled every void and given me strength, made me whole, and if I let you in any further only to lose you, I will die,” he said, his voice cracking. “I have nothing to give you, all I do is take, and you are far more deserving of that.”

With a determined look in her eye, she took the final step between them to close the space and she rested her hands on his chest. Cullen could actually feel himself whole again even at her slightest touch and he shuddered in response. “Where you are broken, I am the binding that will keep you together, just as you are the mould that gives me a form. We are stronger as one that we are apart and I promise you that you will never lose me. Ever. I will forever be waiting for you, on this side of the Veil or the other, and any absence will be temporary. Know that I can never be lost to you because I am a part of you just as you are a part of me.”

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut but not before a single tear escaped and slid down his cheek in solidarity with his melting resolve. He groaned and finally relented, snaking his arms around her waist and encircling her in a fierce display of possession and need. “Maker take me, I’m yours,” he breathed and brought his lips down to hers, crushing them in an eager show of desperate yearning and care. She responded just as passionately, her hands reaching up and around his neck to grasp at his curls. He was suddenly flushed with a wanton heat that burned his skin and her smell, her taste, were the only things that could quench his fire.

She moaned into his kiss which did nothing to still his beating heart or slow his pace. Before he realized what he was doing, he was fumbling awkwardly with the belt on her armour, cursing the intricate loop that was used to hold the protection in place. With deft fingers she met his and unravelled the length before quickly reaching up to her arms and unfastening her harness and pauldrons, dropping them unceremoniously on the floor. Hungry for contact, he ran his hands up and down her freed arms, cursing silently at the leather that continued to separate them. She wasted no time moving on to his own armour, growling in frustration as their intricate clasps defied her greedy fingers. His practiced hands made short work of them and soon they joined her set along with his breastplate in an even louder crash, his furry pauldrons fluttering down overtop them in a soft heap. 

Upper bodies freed, they reclaimed their interrupted embrace with insatiable appetite, entangled in a mess of arms and lips and tongues. She tasted of passion and want and his response was fierce in his desire. It didn’t take long for the rest of the leather to get in the way and soon they were struggling to shed the final layers that kept them from pressing their skin together.

As they each worked to remove their leathers, Cullen reached out to pull Catlyn back to him but she held up his hand to stop him. “Wait,” she breathed, then reached up to fumble with her hair, pulling out pins and casually dropping them on the ground to allow her familiar weaves to come apart, letting her long dark locks to tumble down around her shoulders. He inhaled sharply as she reached behind and undid her breast band, flipping it to a corner and standing before him with her chest bare, loosely covered by her wavy tresses. He had only ever seen her once with her hair down and the image of her framed by the rift, looking like nothing less than Andraste herself, had nothing on the way she appeared to him right now, like a goddess. He was paralyzed, lost in her form, only to have his trance broken by her resumed touch and little trail of kisses she ran along his jawline. He growled as the effect brought a tightening deep within his groin and he pressed himself hard against her, revelling in her reciprocation. 

He had dreamt of this moment for months now. In his daydreams he cherished every second he spent exploring her body, committing her curves and scars to memory, tracing delicate patterns along her skin with his slick tongue. He would touch her reverently, her body a shrine to his pious worship of her. However, in this moment, he had complete disregard for any of the measured approach he had given her in his dreams. Now he was filled with an urgent, consuming desire to hold her closely, wanting to find any way to meld their bodies together into one single perfect union. He grasped her behind and lifted her up onto his hips as he spun around and pushed her back up against the bookshelf, rutting against her like a wild animal. Her moans and sighs filled his ears with music sweeter than anything he had ever heard, and he knew he could never hear anything as wonderful as the sounds she made as their passion exploded around them. He dipped his lips down to her collarbone, nipping at the soft skin at the base of her neck as she shuddered deliciously against him. He lifted her higher and moved further down, cupping one firm breast in his hand as he brought her perfectly taught nipple into his mouth and sucked firmly, twirling little circles with his tongue until she cried out in pleasure before moving on to complete the same ministrations on the other. Everything about her felt soft and warm and she smelt so strong of desire his legs nearly gave way beneath him in response. 

“Cullen, Cullen, please,” she begged. “I need to feel all of you,” she rasped, her voice thick with want. Ever obliging, he held her close and swung back towards his desk, the only surface close enough to satisfy his hungry need. He perched her on the edge and with a single sweep of the arm, dispatched the piles of requisitions and reports in a flurry across the office. Catlyn let out a little gasp as she watched the papers rain down on the floor, falling into a confused puddle that would take hours to sort out. She turned to face him incredulously, knowing how much he valued order in his affairs. 

“Maker take them,” he growled, flashing her a cheeky grin before pushing her back down against the familiar grain of his work surface. He reached for her hips that rocked up to meet his grip as she stretched back on the desk, allowing her hair to fall to the sides and expose her perfectly soft, creamy skin. Her body was strong and sinewy from all the time she spent on the road and in battles but not bulky like a warrior, a true paradox of perfection. For a moment he was lost in the touch of her skin and the sight of her curvaceous form prostrated before him, as his calloused fingers sought to undo her breeches. He took in a shaky breath and settled himself, tugging at the waist and pulling them down her legs, discarding them in a pile among the rest of their clothing before quickly repeating the work on his own.

As he kneeled up beside her, his pride swelled as he watched her reaction to his body, her eyes widening as they trailed down his perfectly rippled abdomen and followed his golden hair downwards, her breath hitching as she made her way down to his hips. Lyrium or not, some things were mercifully unaffected and he could feel the aching throb as he lowered himself between her legs, feeling the heat rise up from between her own. Her eyes swept back up to his and he was taken aback by the sheer wantonness glowing in their depths, the golden brown swirls hypnotizing as he hovered over her, enraptured by her gaze. To think of where they had come from and what they had been through, he could hardly believe that they were there sharing this moment of pure intimate ecstasy. He was forever grateful to whatever power had brought them together and desperate in his promise to make it last.

Catlyn’s arms snaked around his neck and pulled him close, bringing her lips to his. He claimed her as she did him and once again they were caught up in a searing passion so fiery he nearly immolated inside. As he rocked his hips against hers, he could feel the wetness slide against his shaft as he grinded against her centre of pleasure. She cried out into his mouth and whispered her plea, “Please Cullen, I need- I have to- oh Maker,” her words an incoherent jumble as their bodies rocked together. His own desperate need clamoured to cry out and he bit her lip and hissed in his breath to contain himself. 

He dragged his erection down and let the tip tease her folds, watching as she writhed underneath him until her breath came in short pants and her back arched up to meet him. Holding on to whatever control that remained, he eased his way into her, shuddering as her velvety walls surrounded him like a perfect glove meant just for him. Catlyn let out a strangled moan as he filled her and he paused for a moment to savour the perfection that was their union. The feeling of completeness in that moment was so amplified that all the fears, the demons that haunted him, the insecurities and doubts he harboured were cast asunder and banished to the outer realms of Thedas, and he truly believed he could conquer them all. Here with her, sharing this most intimate moment, he wasn’t the Commander, he wasn’t an ex-Templar, nor was he some broken man in need of repair- he was Cullen, the way he had always wanted to be, and he was with the woman he loved more than life itself. Nothing could change the power of that moment.

He slowly drew back and drove back in, dragging his shaft against her and making her to cry out in pleasure, her nails scratching down his back in a delicious pain that left him wanting more. She thrust her hips up hungrily to meet his and set the pace, equally desperate to reach their peak. Their rhythm was a steady build, thrusts and undulations getting stronger and deeper each time they moved in unison. The pressure was building and he could feel her clenching around him as they raced to the edge, gasping for breath as their lungs constricted under the strain. He drew away slightly to look at her face and saw she had her eyes closed and her bottom lip firmly locked between her teeth as she attempted to control herself. She was more beautiful than life itself and his desire was so overwhelming, he could feel himself ready to soar and lose himself into oblivion. He cupped her face with one hand and drew their lips together, a deep sob losing itself in her mouth as he felt her orgasm clench around his in perfect harmony. He managed another stuttered thrust as they rode the waves of heat between them, losing themselves in each other and their release. 

It could have been forever, it could have been a moment; either way, the reluctance he felt at withdrawing from her was magnetic and he had to fight for control of himself in order to extricate their forms, lest his weight crush her beneath him. Their ragged breathing slowly subsided as their pulses eased, though he could see little beads of sweat remaining between her breasts and on her brow. He brushed her messy hair out of her face and stared down at her adoringly. This woman, this precious, one-of-a-kind hero was his to take, his to love, and the relief of her forgiveness swept through him like a cleansing balm. He vowed to himself and to her that he would do anything it took to stay by her side and keep her safe, even if he had to go to the ends of the world to find the way how. As she stared back up at him lovingly, he knew she felt the same. Maybe that was all that they needed to know.


	49. A Plan Hatches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reconciliation part II and Catlyn begins plotting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because honestly, what's a Cullen fic without reference to the glorious hole in his roof?

Catlyn shuddered and sighed as she lay on the desk beneath him, her pulse racing as she drew in one shaky breath after another. Cullen’s breathing was much the same and her lips drew back into a satisfied grin as they lay with their hot, slick bodies pressed together. Their desperate need to be with each other was sudden and neither was alone in their passion. All the months of waiting and the dangers they faced made her yearning for him so much more intense. If she had it her way, she never would have left him back in the Western Approach and it was all she could do to get to Valanmar and the Graves and get back to where she needed to be most.

She had worried that he might reject her once more and she wasn’t sure if she could have handled that. Maker take her, she was so completely lost without him there would be no point in going on if he wasn’t by her side. Now having him inside her was a triumph that filled every last inch of her body and soul with a happy satisfaction she never knew possible.

Still, they were so rushed in their love-making that it reminded her of young rutting dogs, fanatically humping each other like their lives depended on their successful climax. She giggled at the thought, which brought a questioning grin to Cullen’s face.

“Something funny, Inquisitor?”

Catlyn tried to contain herself but the mental image of how ridiculous they might have looked sent her into a deeper fit of giggles. “We couldn’t even make it upstairs,” she snorted.

Cullen’s grin spread and soon he too was chuckling as he looked around his office, papers and armour strewn about like a maelstrom had flown through the tower. “I suppose we were a bit hasty,” he conceded. He looked down at her with as much seriousness as he could muster and asked, “I would hate to disappoint my fearless leader. Perhaps she would be so kind as to show mercy and allow a second chance?”

“I’m hardly disappointed but I always love seconds,” she purred in reply and reached up to nip at his neck, eliciting a low growl from him.

He slid off, grasping her hand as he did and pulling her up in front of him. He drew one arm around her waist and pulled her close to kiss her, his lips pressed firmly against hers. Then he spun her around gently and leaned down to her ear, his warm breath sending tingles down her neck, and whispered, “Ladies first.” He nudged her ahead and gave her a swift tap on the behind, to which she responded with a squeak. She turned and cast him a withering look and sauntered over to his ladder, sashaying her hips seductively the whole way. She didn’t even need to turn and look to know that he had watched her form intently as she made her way up the rungs. Near the top she realized this was the first time she had ever been in his quarters. She had always imagined what his room would look like and as she caught her first glimpse over the edge, she smiled smugly. It was as sparse and tidy as she would have expected from the modest man, though she wondered why it was so bright despite there not being any candles lit…

“Cullen, do you have a hole in your roof?” she exclaimed as she stood looking up at the gaping hole above her. She realized there was a priority list of repairs in Skyhold but surely she had discovered enough logging stations and quarries to have seen to something like the _hole in the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces’ roof _.__

“I always dreamt of what you would look like under the moonlight,” he whispered with a smile as he came up behind her and she grinned and spun to poke his chest playfully. 

“Stubborn fool,” she scolded him but her words were lost in his mouth as he leaned down and claimed her once more. She ran her fingers in his wonderfully curly hair, tugging gently as she opened her lips to his curious tongue that tangled with her own. Her feet barely touched the floor as he guided her back towards his bed, allowing her to flop down in its soft centre before rejoining her. This time his kisses were slower, more reverent, and she felt her insides melt in response to how cherished he made her feel just by the way his lips explored every inch of hers. She had already experienced one release only minutes ago but her body thrummed in response to his and she felt so strung up under his touch that the pressure deep within her was already building, seeking yet another peak. 

As he made his way down her neck, across her collarbone and over her shoulders, he would stop every few seconds to focus his attention on a particular line, a little curve on her skin. After a moment she realized he was tracing her scars, committing them to memory.

“Arrow,” she breathed as he twirled on a familiar spot in on her shoulder. He hummed in response before moving further down to a line across her ribcage. “Red Templar,” she sighed before gasping out as his warm mouth covered her taught nipple and sucked greedily. “Ohh,” she breathed, “I don’t remember that one.”

“Allow me to ensure you don’t forget,” he replied with a smile, his tongue twirling in a relentless tease. She moaned as it sent sparks down deep within her, her body clenching and warming under his touch. His calloused fingers were feather light against her and their tenderness mixed with rough skin left her trembling in their wake. He meandered down and she gasped as his nose rubbed her mound before he dipped low to tease her damp folds apart with his tongue. Relentless in his onslaught but measured in his approach, he lapped at her all the way to the bundle of tightened nerves waiting to explode at his touch. She cried out in pleasure, gripping the sheets in her fists and curling her toes deep into the mattress. Her senses were overwhelmed with the feeling of sheer ecstasy washing over her as he performed sweet miracles with her body and her vision blurred as he dove a finger, then two, deep inside her. 

Just as she was building to what was sure to be an eruption, Cullen pulled back completely, leaving her wanting but only for a moment before he slammed back into her, his erection long and hard and Maker, so full he touched the very depths of her soul with his need. This was what she wanted. This was what she needed. To be filled and carried by his love and strength when she wasn’t sure she could take one step further on her own. She poured every last breath into him and felt herself lift up and soar high above the world, leaving the struggles and pain behind until there was nothing left but the two of them wound up in their own sweet universe. As she came in a quivering mess of cries and limbs, her body shaking with desire, she cried out his name but it was lost in his own moans as he joined her in perfect harmony.

Together they lay sprawled on Cullen’s bed, their panting slowly subsiding as their normal breathing resumed. Despite the possessiveness with which he held her, she felt delicate and protected in his strong embrace. He gently smoothed her hair back and placed a tender kiss on her brow before nuzzling his face in her neck.

“Let Corypheus find us here, I don’t think I’ll ever move,” he mumbled into her hair. Catlyn chuckled wryly in response.

“I’m not sure how I feel about a ménage à trois with an ancient darkspawn magister,” she mused, running her fingers up and down his broad, sinewy back. His response was a muffled laugh.

“On second thought, I don’t believe I’m the sharing type,” he replied, raising himself up on one elbow to meet her gaze.

“Good. Neither am I,” she confirmed with a smile. He gazed down at her lovingly and gently cupped her cheek with his free hand, softly stroking her cheek and sending her heart off on a hundred fluttering wings with his look of sheer adoration. 

“I can’t even imagine what it is I have done to deserve this,” he admitted and continued quickly when she frowned slightly. “So forgive me if I get it wrong and stumble along the way. I will try and uphold every promise I make you and give you everything it is you need. Just tell me if I’m wrong, you will never hurt me if you do. From this moment until my last, I will spend my life making sure you realize how special- how sacred- you are to me, and I will protect you with all the strength and power I possess.”

Catlyn’s chest constricted as her heart near burst with happiness, and she could feel the unbidden tears well up in her eyes. Her commander, her broken, conflicted man, the one person she felt safest with despite his earlier protests, was pledging his soul to her as if she alone could guide him through the world and keep him whole. It was all she had ever come to hope for and want, and she was relieved that he finally admitted he wanted the same. Together they would face down the darkness and she knew in that moment there wasn’t a thing in the whole of Thedas that could stop them.

The cool night air ushered in a chill from the hole and cracks in his tower and Catlyn let out an involuntary shudder. With easy grace, Cullen reached over and tugged at the covers, wrapping them up and around her and nestling her down into the warm, safe shell of his body. She sighed contentedly and couldn’t even remember drifting off to sleep.

\----  
The day dawned early and bright, the light pouring in unfiltered onto his bed and forcing Catlyn to turn over and bury her face in the pillows. A strong arm reached out and nestled her back in close and she was suddenly reminded of the previous night’s events, the familiar twinge of desire awakening in her belly. She sighed contentedly as Cullen’s fingers found her left breast and teased her nipple playfully, eliciting a little mewl from her as she burrowed further back in his lap, rubbing the now-familiar velvety skin of his erection that pressed onto her backside.

One thing led to another and before long they were both crying out to the Maker before the sun had even crested Skyhold’s peaks.

As they snuggled back under the covers contentedly, Cullen pulled her into him, holding her side close to him as he stretched out beside her, propped up on one elbow. “Stay with me here,” Cullen whispered against her as he kissed the sensitive skin below her ear. 

Catlyn snickered in response. “Not long ago you were begging me to leave you, now you’re begging me to stay. You’re a hard man to follow, Commander.”

“I’m a fool, forgive me,” he breathed, unfinished in his worship of her. “Forgive me and stay with me here.”

It was a tempting offer, she had to admit. “We only got in late last night. The others will want a war council,” she argued half-heartedly, letting her eyes drift shut as he made his way across her chest and over her bust.

“Let Varric hold council,” he replied in between kisses. “Or Cassandra. Or Sera, for all I care.”

Catlyn let out a hearty laugh in response. “Clearly you’re bewitched, ser, if you think it’s wise to let Sera hold a war council.” She could feel his grin across her chest before he looked up at her, eyes twinkling.

“Desire demons do that, they say,” he replied with a smirk, and then he sighed. “But you’re right, unless we want half our soldiers fighting without breeches or swarms of bees unleashed on Val Royeaux, perhaps Sera shouldn’t be the first choice of delegate.” He considered their options seriously for a moment before replying, “Cassandra it is then.”

Catlyn laughed and pushed his shoulder playfully. “You know as well as I do that we are both expected at council this morning. Had I known you would be such an immediately poor influence on my leadership abilities, I may have reconsidered my actions last night.” The look her gave her was one of such injury, she added, “Who am I kidding, we both know that isn’t true.” They laughed and kissed once more, breaking apart soon enough to prevent things from getting carried away as they already had once that morning.

They removed themselves albeit reluctantly from the bed and Cullen went about gathering new undergarments from his dresser while Catlyn looked about the room, realizing her dilemma. Of course all of her clothes were downstairs… and the doors to his office were decidedly unlocked. There had been no threat of unwanted entry last night, her arrival being as late as it was. This morning, however, patrols were set to begin shortly and runners would be appearing on his doorstep at any second.

“Umm, Cullen?” she asked shyly. He looked over at her as she stood very naked before him. “My clothes are all downstairs.”

He looked from her to the ladder and back again, the slow realization dawning on his face. “Maker,” he breathed, “my office is a disaster.” Catlyn couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as he scrambled to lower himself down the ladder. She followed to the edge and watched as he reached the office below and swore under his breath as he assessed the situation around him. Papers were strewn about the floor as if an explosion had rocked the room and boots and gauntlets were lying about haphazardly. He quickly made his way over to the pile of her leathers just as there was a knock on the door and one of Leliana’s messengers came barging into the room, much to Cullen’s irritation. She knew their presumptuous entries drove him to distraction and under normal circumstances he would greet them with a stern glare and short temper. This morning, however, he was nervous and guilt was plastered all over his features.

The messenger looked about the room in surprise, staring at the mess of quills, paper and books dumped on the floor. “Commander! Is everything alright?” the man asked in concern.

“Umm,” Cullen faltered, nervously reaching for the back of his neck as he stood half-dressed before the man. “The door was carelessly left open last night and a gust of wind flung it open, wreaking havoc on my things,” he replied before quickly regaining his composure and straightening himself to full commander height. “Go and send for Lieutenant Wolmsworth as I believe it was his watch who was guilty of such negligence. Fetch the latest reports from Sister Leliana while you’re at it and don’t forget to _knock before you enter _when you return,” he growled at the man before he turned and fled the tower. The door slammed shut behind him and Catlyn burst out into a fit of giggles before sliding down the rails and joining him down below.__

“Maker’s breath,” he cursed. “Of all the people, it had to be one of Leliana’s messengers. The entire keep will know before they break their fast,” he complained before affixing her naked form with a horrified look. “Anyone could come in at any minute you know!” he exclaimed, frantically looking for something to cover her with. Catlyn shrugged and calmly walked over to the pile of belongings that were distinctly hers sitting in a pile right next to where the messenger had stopped. She smoothed out her leathers and armour and walked over to where her boots lay, casually bending over with her ass raised plainly in the air for Cullen to enjoy as she pulled them on. With her breeches tossed over one arm, she shook out her armour that held her rogue’s cloak and sauntered over to him.

“They won’t see a thing, Commander,” she replied with a grin. She raised herself up on her toes and planted a slow, lingering kiss on his mouth before cloaking herself and marching out the door towards the keep, allowing the door to stay open behind her so that he could watch her make her way over to Solas’s door, though he would be the only one to notice anything different about the air around her. His strangled protest followed her across the causeway as she chuckled in pure delight.

\---  
_Dear niece _,__

_I received your message and am cognizant of the respect you showed in approaching me with this matter. While I ultimately accept and respect whatever decision you make, the following guidance might be worth consideration _.__

_The Trevelyan family history of xenophobia with respect to their noble line dates back much farther than simply your grandmother. It waxed and waned with various generations but never strayed far from the traditional purity. In fact, many noble houses in the Free Marches respect our name for that very reason. We have countless contacts and ties with other families and our bounty and success is derived on the positive relations we maintain with them. This dependence can be changed over time, but if you desire to maintain some semblance of prosperity and respect for the family name, it is best to introduce change incrementally and in due course _.__

_What has varied most is the prominence of the family unions. For example, though we can trace our lineage back to the Lafaille family of Kirkwall, the first viscounts of the Free Marcher city; self-made merchant princes of Antiva have crept into our line; and even the daughter of an Avaar clan leader (one day, should we be given the opportunity, allow me to recount that fantastic tale) has worked her way into our genes. It is not so much the provenance or the rank of the nobility that matters so much as it is the attribute itself _.__

_I understand that Ambassador Josephine has been approached with an offer to participate in a tournament for the title to the bannorn of Calon. This is a very respectable title, as evidenced by our own, and would be looked upon favourably by those who matter _.__

_I wish you great happiness, my lady. I trust your judgment in this matter and pledge to stand by you no matter the path you choose _.__

_Sincerely _,__

_Emeric Trevelyan ___

A slow smile crept to the edges of Catlyn’s mouth as she read the letter from her uncle. Though she and Cullen had reconciled and were committed to letting nothing stand in between them again, she knew that Cullen fought valiantly to suppress the simmering fear of unworthiness he had nestled deep within his heart. It truly didn’t matter to her whether or not he had a title and her uncle was right to recognize that her immediate inclination was to thumb her nose at any and all parties who would frown upon any commoner she took by her side. What did matter to her though were Cullen’s feelings and if there was anything she could do to appease him, she would do it. The Arl of Redcliffe’s recent invitation presented itself as the solution to her problem.

Apparently a bannorn was left vacant following the events of the Conclave and the Arl had invited the Inquisition to send a representative to fight in the tournament whose champion would claim the title to the lands. Josephine advised her that the Inquisition really couldn’t manage a bannorn but that it might still prove a good opportunity to position them to gain some allies. While Catlyn could see the merit in that, she saw something even better instead, though it would take careful planning and a strategic approach.

Which was part of the reason she had asked her Antivan friend to indulge her and the pair found themselves along with the remaining two advisors in the war room that afternoon.

“It is quite an honour to be invited to participate, Your Worship,” her advisor explained. “It lends legitimacy to our cause and the potential to build trade relations in the country.”

“What happens if we win?” she asked.

“The title would fall to you or whomever you choose to hold it in your stead.”

“I don’t need any more claims to land. I seem to have acquired enough responsibility to last me a lifetime,” she smiled lopsidedly at the woman. 

“Our attendance at the event could win us much-needed allies,” Leliana offered. “There is no need to emerge victorious necessarily.”

“So who do we send then? Michel?” Catlyn asked, appearing to seriously consider their options.

“Sending an Orlesian to win Fereldan land would not be a wise course of action, Inquisitor,” Cullen advised, speaking up for the first time since the conversation began. He had an unreadable expression on his face and appeared lost in concentration on the war table.

“Right. How about Bull? Everyone loves Bull,” Catlyn offered.

“Qunari. Again, not the best choice,” he shook his head.

Catlyn furrowed her brow as she considered the potential list of candidates. “It appears my closest friends all hail from outside of Fereldan. How inconvenient.” Cullen shot her an injured look. Friends, she mouthed to him, letting him know she did not count him among the friendly group. He was much more than that to her and he knew it.

“Is there no one among the Inquisition ranks that you would trust with such an endeavour, Commander?” Josephine asked him sweetly. He cleared his throat and sighed.

“I will give it some thought. By when must we reply?”

“If we send word by week’s end, that should suffice,” she replied, quickly scanning her clip board for her notes on the invitation.

“I will have an answer before then,” he confirmed. “Will there be anything else? I would like to participate in this afternoon’s troop exercises if at all possible.”

“Of course Commander. That is all for today,” Josephine replied and Cullen nodded his head politely in farewell as he left the war room. Catlyn smiled inwardly. She needed him to offer up the solution on his own and knew he had taken the bait. She just hoped he wouldn’t be too proud to pass up the opportunity they needed to ease his burden.


	50. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen presents Catlyn with an option for the tournament. It's not what she was expecting.

Cullen parried the swing and lunged deep, catching the captain low on his thigh, sending him stumbling backwards and to the side. It was the opening he had been waiting for. With a quick attack and a careful swing, he knocked the man’s sword from his hand and pinned him on his knees.

“I yield,” the captain huffed, his breathing coming in short quick gasps. Cullen’s was much the same, but he felt far more exhilarated being on the dealing end of the blow. Cheers went up in the crowd as Cullen sheathed his sword and reached out to his soldier, raising him to his feet and clapping him proudly on the shoulder. 

“Well fought, Captain,” he praised him. In truth it had been a good battle and Cullen was sure that it might have ended up reversed very easily. Still, he was relieved to have escaped humiliation today and perhaps a little bolstered by the thought of him still being able to handle a sword despite his deteriorating physical state. Tremors often wracked his limbs nowadays and he was certain that in very short time, he would be unable to fight alongside the rest of his troops. The thought was unsettling, especially given what still remained to be faced. 

Cullen conferred with the lieutenants who had assembled to run the training exercises for the day, instructing them on what areas he would prefer they focus on in preparation for the upcoming battle. They were closing in on Corypheus’s whereabouts in the Arbour Wilds and it was only a matter of time before they would be marching off to meet him. He had wanted to participate as much as he could in the preparations to ensure his standards were being met, though admittedly, today’s exertions had more to do with a different plan he was considering.

He knew of the old tradition of title tournaments that took place in his homeland of Fereldan. As a young boy his father had allowed he and his brother to travel to Lothering to attend one that was held following the death of an heirless bann. He could still recall the excitement he felt as the pair of them climbed the bleachers that were setup overlooking the sparring grounds to perch on the end at the highest point in the hopes of getting an unobstructed view of the event. The woman who won was well-known in the area as being a fearsome fighter, much taller and broader than the average man and as fierce as any male could be. She came from a humble farmstead and was alone to support both of her aging parents. She had no potential suitors and though she could have maintained the home on her own, she wanted to give her parents more than she could alone. Following the acquisition of the land, she was granted the residence of the old bann as well as his estate holdings. It was more than enough to keep her and her parents well looked after. After that she had received many offers for her hand, all of which she refused in favour of a love affair with a foreign merchant passing through the area. She needed only one thing from him, an heir, and that she took but no more. She raised her son on her own and when Cullen had left Honnleath for to join the Templars, he was a young man of about 13 years, strapping like his mother, well-mannered and hard-working. The people loved their new lady and little lord and they were well-respected in the Bannorn. 

It was this memory that inspired him even now. As he returned to his office following the afternoon’s activities, he couldn’t help but consider the opportunity that lay before him. He knew there were many good soldiers he could send as champion for the Inquisitor, but none were likely to win the entire contest. Even if they did, to do so in the name of a Free Marcher noble would be a less than ideal outcome. However, if he went, he may be more widely accepted, given he was a native of Fereldan. With that small tract of land came the title he believed was deserving of hers. It may not be grand and it may not be from a long lineage of pure nobility, but he knew that in Fereldan at least it wouldn’t matter a bit and elsewhere a title was a title at the heart of it. A person need only look to the likes of Teyrn Loghain, who before his treason was one of the most respected and honoured men in all of Fereldan. He was also the son of a rebel bandit and rose to the highest ranks of Fereldan nobility thanks to his sacrifice and service to the crown, not his purebred lineage. Even the current king himself was a bastard, yet he was one of the most well-loved monarchs in Fereldan’s history. Yes, Fereldan would open their arms to him. He just hoped the rest of Thedas would do the same.

He opened the door to his office and let it close silently behind him before he sat down at his desk and sighed. As tempting as it all was, he knew the stark reality was that he wasn’t even sure he could win it all. Years ago, with lyrium pulsing through his veins, he would have thrown himself into the fight without a single shred of doubt that he would win. He was a skilled fighter, having practiced with his siblings since he was eight and excelled as a model pupil under Templar tutelage, and he knew he had the skill necessary to triumph at a tournament such as this. Now, however, his limbs were weak, his head fuzzy, and he could never tell what day would dawn good or bad. The bad days were coming more frequently and with his responsibility to the Inquisition first, it was a risk he shouldn’t really take.

He was on the verge of spiralling down into a brooding state just as a small knock on the door came and it opened gingerly, the slender form of the Inquisitor slipping into the room. She smiled crookedly at him as she made her way over to his desk and leaned comfortably with her hip by his side.

“Heard you bested Dobson in the ring,” she smirked at him. “Testing out which one of your soldiers you’d like to send to the tournament?”

Cullen gave a short laugh and dropped his head slightly. “You could say that,” he replied. 

“I’m still not sure I follow why we can’t send Bull or Blackwall,” Catlyn complained mildly. “If we aren’t meant to win, what does it matter?”

“Appearances matter,” he replied. “We don’t need to offend the Arl nor the Bannorn, for that matter. Though Fereldan has less of a history of conflict with the Qunari than the Tevinters or Marchers do, they are a proud people. They also have a very long memory and hold grudges for generations. The Orlesian occupation is still very fresh in many Fereldan’s minds. Although we have the distinct advantage of being seen as a relatively neutral party in the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be cognizant of our allies’ sore spots.”

“I suppose,” she relented. “There must be someone you trust who could go. Someone who would fight with honour.”

Cullen considered his options carefully. Finally, he sighed and asked, “What if I had someone to offer, but they would only go for selfish reasons? And what if the risk is posed the Inquisition was a bit higher than necessary?”

Catlyn frowned and stared at him carefully. “I would say you would likely only propose such a thing if there were very good reason to do it.”

“The argument for whether it is reasonable or not may be questionable,” he chuckled softly. “Though I suspect you may be convinced of its worthiness.”

“Well don’t leave me hanging here, Commander,” she teased, her arms folded expectantly across her chest. “What is the plan?”

Cullen took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. If this was the only way, then so be it, he thought. “The winner of the tournament receives both the lands and title associated with the bannorn of Calon- a title that would bestow upon the victor the status of nobility. The Inquisition needs no such title and forgive me my presumption, but I don’t believe you are seeking to extend yours any further.”

Catlyn snorted. “Not exactly.”

Cullen smiled lopsidedly and continued. “I know it’s not important to you whether or not you consort with a commoner, but to the rest of Thedas and your own family it does. A lot of that would be resolved if you were with someone who was nobility as well.”

“Cullen, you don’t mean…” she started before he held up a hand to quiet her.

“If I went and I won, the title would be mine. It wouldn’t change the fact that I come from a small fishing village in Fereldan, but it would make me far less common.”

“But can’t someone go in your stead? Couldn’t I appoint a champion and then pass the title on to you?” she asked, her eyes having gone a little wild.

“I don’t need a champion to go on my behalf. I won’t have anyone fight my battles for me. Besides, what would that say of me as a man? That I am incapable of fighting my own battles? When I win, the problem is solved. It has to be that way.”

Catlyn stared at him with a deep frown. She did not seem as excited at the prospect, not that he had expected that, but thankfully she didn’t seem as against it as would have thought. “Are you doing this because it’s what you want or what you think I need? What the world thinks I need?” she finally asked. Cullen hesitated for a moment. Truthfully a lot of the insecurity lay within him, but part of it was borne from the fact that he knew very well what the rest of Thedas expected of someone of her stature. He was afraid of how she might react but he didn’t want to lie either.

“It’s not really that clear to me where to draw the line,” he admitted. “I know you don’t care and that is both admiral and comforting, but I see beyond that and I believe it matters enough to warrant trying at least to find a way to bridge the two sides.”

Catlyn considered his answer for a moment before continuing. “What happens if you lose?”

“I won’t lose,” he replied confidently, trying to convince her of the merit of his plan, though a dark little voice deep within nagged at him.

“Cullen, you are not invincible. You are not even very well. What does my mother have to say about this? Would she even allow it? As I recall she was not at all impressed with the outcome of Adamant. This plan has as a goal something not even half as worthy as what we were trying to accomplish there.”

“I will seek assurances from your mother that I am fit to undertake the challenge, but even without her blessing I will go,” he growled, a stubbornness suddenly flaring up within him. He would die before he ever let the effects of the lyrium hold him back. He had endured worse before and for this, something that meant more to him than anything had in a long while, he would be willing to make the sacrifice. If he couldn’t be the man she deserved there would be no point in even pretending like it would all work out in the end.

“You would be willing to risk your life for something as shallow as a title when Corypheus is still out there plotting how to take over the world?” she cried incredulously. 

“It’s more than just a title Catlyn, can’t you see that?” he cried, his voice cracking slightly in frustration. “I need the world to know that you are with someone who is your equal, someone who is worthy of your devotion. I need to know myself that it’s true. This is a way to gain the title and do it in such a way as to prove that I am still someone capable of being strong. Of winning. Of earning something entirely by themselves. Will you allow me the chance to do that?” he asked, trying his best not to sound too desperate but knowing that it was too late for that. He just hoped she wouldn’t turn away from him now. Instead, she looked at him intently, her brown eyes flaring, until she finally sighed and relented.

“You are all those things without the title, Cullen. I just wish you would see that,” she whispered softly. “Your needs are important to me though and if this is what you want, then I will stand by you.”

He let out the breath he had been holding with a rush of air. “Thank you,” he replied. “I will speak with your mother before leaving just to ease any fears you may have.” The truth was he was afraid of what her mother might say and almost preferred not knowing what a foolish idea this was, but his responsibility to the Inquisition still mattered to him and he wouldn’t be so reckless as to avoid the matter completely. He simply hoped that he would have enough time to see this through to the end. “I will make preparations to leave by week’s end. That should give us enough time to send word to the Arl and travel to the tournament in time.”

Catlyn remained rooted in her place for a moment longer, a look of exasperation on her face, before she finally sighed and wrapped her arms around him. “You are the most infuriatingly stubborn man I have ever met, you know that right?”

Cullen chucked in response. “Seems we were a match made by the Maker himself,” he grinned as he leaned down to kiss her. They shared a tender embrace before Catlyn bid him goodbye in search of Sera whom she had promised to speak with before she had to report in to Josephine for official Inquisition business. Apparently the Antivans were lining up at the door to establish exclusive trade agreements with them and the Ambassador wished to discuss the details with her before she set off on another mission. 

This left Cullen alone to consider what he had just gotten himself into. In an effort to keep himself focussed and busy, he decided to throw himself into his own mounting pile of correspondence. He could feel the beginnings of a headache brewing deep within the base of his skull, the likes of which would grow unless he took another one of the professor’s draughts. In an effort to hold off a while longer, he steeled himself and picked up the first requisition on the pile. It was going to be a long week.


	51. Time Running Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are running out of time to find a cure for Cullen, leaving Catlyn with a difficult struggle to come to terms with the inevitable.

It hadn’t gone exactly as she had planned and as a result, it was difficult to push from her mind. The exuberance she had hoped to feel following successfully convincing Cullen to accept her offer was pre-empted by an anxious rumbling deep in her gut. 

She had meant to convince him that she could send a champion on her behalf and, once the lands were secured, she would simply transfer them to him. Problem solved. He would have his title and be reassured that in the eyes of every Maker forsaken noble in Thedas, he was worthy of her. She wouldn’t have to worry about his constant anxiety over the issue and they could move on and focus on the more important things in life- like finding a cure for his lyrium addiction and defeating Corypheus.

She had not anticipated that his own ego would factor in quite so significantly, pride rearing its ugly demon head like he were an abomination. She was distraught over the idea of him tossing himself so recklessly into battle over something that she didn’t fully agree with. She understood her uncle’s position and appreciated that Cullen was also uncomfortable about his lack of noble status, but Maker be damned, she really didn’t care about the consequences of ignoring it. She cared for him and shouldn’t that be the most important thing? Dorian had chided her, called her naïve and ignorant, and she could see Josephine’s thinly veiled disapproval behind her diplomatic veneer. Still, how could she be true to their cause if she couldn’t be true to herself, and ultimately what mattered most to her was the honour and honesty with which a person carried themselves and not whether they were a class above the rest.

But the way he looked at her… the way his eyes pleaded for this… She had agreed because it mattered to him and she vowed to do anything it took to make him happy. After everything he had been through, after everything he had given to everyone else, it was about time that someone gave something back to him. If this was the price she had to pay, so be it.

But she still worried.

She worried because she knew how vulnerable he was right now. How weak he had become and how close he was to burning through every last reserve he held. Adamant had nearly killed him, of that her mother left no question. He was nearing the end of his rope, whether he realized it or not, and she felt a responsibility to ensure that he stayed out of harm’s way as best as he could until something could be done to heal him. For good.

She sighed in irritation, too distracted to focus on the reports Leliana had left for her to review. She knew the Qunari were growing impatient and wanted some display of commitment to their alliance on her part, but right now she couldn’t give a nug’s ass whether the Arishok was asking himself, she really couldn’t read one more line on the matter. She stared at the tray of food Grace had brought up to her which remained untouched on her desk and pushed herself away, deciding she needed air more than anything else.

She decided to go down in search of Varric, hoping for a cheery smile and cheeky story or two to get her mind off of things. She made her way down to the great hall but was disappointed to find the dwarf absent from his usual spot near the entrance. Her disappointed look attracted the attention of one of the servants passing by who informed her that he had left on an errand earlier that day and wasn’t expected back for a fortnight. Her disappointment grew even further.

“Commander Cullen and Lord Pavus were here not too long ago though, Your Worship. They went down to the undercroft and haven’t resurfaced since, if you’re looking for them as well,” the young man offered helpfully instead. Intrigued, Catlyn dipped her head in recognition and set off for the undercroft. It was rare that the two were seen there together, spending most of their time in the gardens pouring over the chess board. She wondered what the pair was doing down there, her stomach lurching as fear gripped her, making her blood run cold. There was really only one thing they ever discussed down there and that was the lyrium.

Catlyn quickly made her way down to see what was going on. As she stepped into the cavernous room, she heard her mother’s voice floating up from below. She could just make out the tops of Cullen, Dorian, Fiona and her mother’s head from over the railing, and assumed that Dagna was also there although her height kept her hidden from view. Instead of joining them, she stood silently by the door, listening in while the group engaged in discussion.

“… it’s the best chance we’ve come across thus far. The logic behind the procedure and outcome is sound, it remains to be seen what the effects on a human would be,” she heard her mother explaining. She sounded confident yet reluctant, which made Catlyn’s skin prickle. Whatever she was suggesting obviously came at a cost, one she wasn’t sure was worth paying.

“What exactly is involved?” she heard Dorian ask.

“The Commander’s body has been attacked and is still under attack,” Fiona explained. “We need a way to kill the lyrium that remains and heal the corrupted cells, and the only way to do that is to have his own body fight back in return. We can’t just simply infect him with something that will attack the lyrium because the lyrium will sense it, as will his body, and will prevent it from doing what it is meant to. The specimen the Professor collected has been used to stimulate a response that has made it strong enough to attack the lyrium. Since it once belonged to the Commander, it should trick his body from sensing an intruder.”

“I took the resulting substance and crafted a rune that we’ll place on Cullen and, with enough magic poured into it, will infiltrate his body and kill off the lyrium,” Dagna picked up. “The idea is that since it’s Cullen’s blood, his body won’t fight back which will allow it to take out the lyrium before it even knows what’s happening.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Dorian asked. “If the lyrium senses it first?” The room was silent.

“Then it will have failed. It may also cause such a strong reaction that the lyrium will take out whatever is left of Cullen. His own body may not be strong enough to withstand the reaction,” Catlyn’s mother replied softly. It was obvious from her tone what the potential outcome could be and the risk was too much for Catlyn to bear.

“No!” she exclaimed, pushing herself away from the door she found herself bracing against and made her way down the stairs to join the gathered party. Their faces all reflected anxiety and discomfort at her surprise appearance, save for Cullen whose face was unreadable. She walked and stood beside him, not taking her eyes off of him. “That’s too much of a risk. There needs to be another way to do this.”

“You should see the bunnies Inquisitor!” Dagna tried to reassure her. “They’re all doing really well! I mean, the first one still only hops around in circles-“

“Dagna, not helpful,” Dorian hissed.

“- but the others are really happy and normal!” she finished.

“Pouring magic into a rune that could potentially turn Cullen into a deranged lack wit? Or even worse, killing him? No. We still have time, I want something that has been extensively tested before we use it on anyone at all,” she replied vehemently.

“I beg your pardon, Inquisitor, but we don’t have that much time,” Fiona interjected. “From the way the Commander’s symptoms have been advancing, I would say he is close to becoming the deranged lack wit you’re afraid of even without our intervention.”

“Thanks, Grand Enchanter,” Cullen mumbled under his breath. Fiona blushed embarrassedly as she realized the insult.

“I-I’m sorry Commander, that did not come out the way I had intended,” she stuttered. He smiled lopsidedly at her, his eyes forgiving.

“Despite the grand enchanter’s less than eloquent assessment, she’s right Inquisitor,” Dorian said. “I’ve seen the notes and the progression first hand. If the Commander is to have a chance, we have to act now before the opportunity is lost.”

She had noticed that Cullen’s tremors came more frequently and he often grimaced in pain when he thought no one was looking. But she was. She always was, keeping an eye out for him and mentally calculating how much time she thought they might have. She knew from her mother how quickly things could turn and was acutely aware of the signs and symptoms. It must have been her willful blindness, her desperate need to keep him safe and close after everything they had been through that left her in denial of what was obviously happening.

Catlyn looked desperately from Dorian to Fiona then at Dagna before her eyes settled on her mother- her trustworthy, honest, pillar of hope in a world that had never offered Catlyn anything constant except her love and devotion. Her warm eyes shone back at her with sympathy and resignation. Catlyn swallowed the dry knot that had built in her throat. With that look, she knew that the situation was as dire as the others presented it.

“Cullen, what is it that you want?” she asked hoarsely, her voice cracking with the strain to keep it together. He looked down at her, his face still unreadable. It was almost haunting the way he appeared so calm and resolute despite the dire circumstances he was in.

“How much time do I have?” he asked, not taking his eyes off her face. 

“It is difficult to say for certain, Commander,” her mother answered gently. “It could be a week, it could be a month. It will be sudden but it could be delayed should you rest more. The constant pressure you find yourself under does no service to your condition.” She held her hand up in silent protest as his face shot towards hers indignantly. “I understand that is not to be helped but it’s important that everyone knows this.” Catlyn had a feeling it was more for her benefit than anyone else’s that her mother felt the need to underline the point.

“And the draughts?” he pushed.

“Perhaps one more, but their effectiveness wanes with every one you take. After that, you will either need to submit or let nature take its course.”

The room fell silent again and Catlyn was sure no one dared even breathe as Cullen considered his options. Every muscle in her body was tensed and she had to remind herself to breathe as she waited for Cullen to make his decision.

With his jaw clenched and his shoulders set determinedly, Cullen inhaled deeply and brought down his verdict. “I will need to speak to the Seeker and choose a second in command. As soon as it becomes apparent that there is no time left, you will proceed, whether I am able to communicate it or not. You have my consent. For the moment, there are still things that need attending to, including the matter we discussed earlier, Professor,” he added, giving her mother a sidelong glance. Catlyn frowned, suspicious of what that matter was. “I want you all to know how appreciative I am of your continued efforts in this matter. You have my deep felt gratitude, regardless of the outcome. I could not be in better hands. If you will excuse me, I have some urgent matters to attend to.” Cullen nodded in dismissal and made his way up the steps and out of the undercroft. Broken from her trance, Catlyn wasted no time taking off after him.

“Cullen, wait!” she called but he kept walking up the stairs towards the grand hall. She cursed as his long legs quickly put distance between them. Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to them as they entered the grand hall, she slowed her step and smiled to the gathered nobles as she passed by them as purposefully as she could without appearing rude. Cullen made his way to his office and she continued to follow, catching the door just before it slammed shut.

“Cullen, please!” she grunted as she caught the heavy door. “What’s gotten into you? I just want to talk,” she grumbled as she squeezed through and let the door close softly behind her.

“There is nothing to talk about,” he grumbled dismissively. “The decision has been made. I need to send word to Rylen to be prepared to return to Skyhold at a moment’s notice. He will assume all my functions should the procedure not work. In the meantime, I need to finish preparing before we leave.”

Catlyn’s stomach plummeted. “Leave?” she squeaked. “For where?”

Cullen glanced up at her with a raised eyebrow, not stopping what he was doing to engage fully in what she knew would be a heated argument. “I believe we have accepted an invitation to a tournament,” he drawled. “It would be rude not to attend, don’t you think?”

Catlyn’s pulse quickened. “After what we just heard, you can’t seriously be considering going.”

“After everything we just heard, I can’t seriously consider not going,” he replied curtly. 

“You heard my mother! The pressure is only making things worse. If you push yourself too far, you’ll-”

“I’ll what?” he snapped. “Die? I’ll die anyways, Catlyn, whether it is a matter of days, weeks or months. It won’t change the inevitable.”

“How can you say that?” she pleaded. “I know my mother, she wouldn’t raise expectations if there weren’t really any hope. If you stay well-rested maybe it will buy them more time to refine the procedure and increase the chances of it succeeding.”

Cullen stopped shuffling the reports in front of him and sighed irritably, bracing himself on his desk. She could see him strain as he tried to control his emotions. “I’m tired of waiting, tired of ignoring the inevitable. I need to accept that death is a very likely outcome and focus on what little I have left of my life instead of spending it thinking about all the opportunities I wasted. This is something that I want, something that matters to me. I might not get the chance ever again so I’m taking it now. If I fail, then at least I will die knowing that I gave it my all.”

“Cullen, I-” Catlyn’s voice cracked and the tears that threatened earlier burst forth, streaming down her face. She grunted in frustration and wiped them away furiously with the palms of her hands, cursing herself for being so weak when he needed her to be strong. It was selfish what she wanted: more time with him. If he gave up the tournament maybe it would buy them more time together, perhaps even enough to figure out a better way to heal him. But she knew that’s not what he wanted and now, at this crossroads, she knew she needed to do it his way.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” she mumbled through her sniffling. Through the blur she could hear him sigh and see him walk over to where she stood. He placed his arms on her shoulders and gave her a slight squeeze before reaching up with one hand to brush away the tears and tip her head up to face him. 

“You said so yourself: I can never be lost to you because I am a part of you just as you are a part of me,” he spoke softly to her, gently rubbing his thumb across her wet cheek. “This is important to me, Catlyn. It means a great deal to have your support and you by my side.”

She sniffled and melted into his touch. Maker, how was she going to survive without him? “Of course,” she relented, leaning further into his embrace and burying her face in his in his furry pauldron, cursing the hardness of the cold breastplate he insisted on wearing even within the protective walls of Skyhold. He leaned down and kissed her head and stroked her back tenderly as they stood locked together. 

“We leave at first light tomorrow,” he murmured into her hair. “We both have things to do before then,” he reluctantly pointed out. Catlyn sighed. She knew he was right, but it all seemed immaterial to her in that moment.

“Fine,” she accepted bitterly. “If you aren’t too busy later, perhaps you could find some time for me? I have a feeling we will have very little time to ourselves once we set out. Have you seen Josephine’s itinerary for us? I’m exhausted and fed up and we haven’t even left with,” she laughed bitterly. 

“I would be terribly disappointed if you didn’t come by,” he admitted with a grin before drawing her lips up to his. His kiss was laced with thanks and longing, a bittersweet combination that made her heart constrict knowing that the number of kisses they had left was numbered. She pushed the dark thoughts to the back of her mind and focussed on the moment, on the way he felt and tasted. She knew that should be her focus: that those tender moments were the ones she should focus on, not the heart-breaking ones that were to come.


	52. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition travels to South Reach, making a stop along the way.

It had been years since he had passed through this part of Fereldan. A dozen, if he recalled. He had been granted permission to go home to visit with his family before being assigned to his first post at Kinloch Hold. Had he known that might have been the last time he had seen his home, seen his parents, his siblings… he might have stayed a little longer, spent more time memorizing all the beautiful little things that made this place home. Though ten years old now, the fifth blight had taken its toll on Fereldan and its pastoral countryside, and no area had suffered quite so much as Lothering and its surroundings- including the village of Honnleath.

A melancholy descended upon him as the party travelled through the familiar region, the Southron Hills framing the distance like the comforting arm of a mother around her injured child. He had expected the area to have recovered better than it had, though why he thought that he didn’t really know. As they followed the West Road, his eyes caught site of familiar haunts, like Old Myllar’s farm, the most bountiful farm in the area that he and his brother spent countless hours sneaking into and pilfering carrots and turnips, daring the other to carry the most without dropping any (whoever did lost, of course, and had to go back and pick everything up which increased the risk of getting caught). He still remembered the thrashing they got from their father when Old Man Myllar caught them and hauled them back to their house by the ears. Now the fields lay unploughed, the Myllar family having been exterminated during the blight and the ground still haunted by the taint. He would have expected new tenants to have taken over by now but gathered that the rebuilding effort had taken longer to grow in this area. After all, it had been one of the most ravaged areas due to its proximity to Ostagar and the Korcari Wilds. Still, the thought depressed him, and he wondered how many other familiar places had fallen victim to a similar fate- and whether, should he win the lands he would be fighting for, there would be something he could do to help breathe new life into the recovery effort.

As they moved along, his mind wandered to his travelling party. Josephine had insisted on accompanying them, although this time alone in a carriage as there was no convincing Catlyn to ride in one following their journey to Halamshiral. The carriage was flanked by a guard of a dozen or so men hand-picked by Cullen. Two supply wagons followed at the rear, which Catlyn had insisted was too much but lost the argument to the equally stubborn ambassador. Up ahead of him rode the motley crew: Bull and his Chargers, the whole group of them, along with Dorian, who rode uncharacteristically close to Bull despite his many protests and derisive glares whenever anyone suggested there was more than a hostile friendship budding there. Varric was in the thick of it, weaving tales from his journeys with the Champion for everyone’s enjoyment. Sera was also among them, tottering precariously in the saddle of her mount. Whether that be from unease or drink, Cullen wasn’t sure, but it was a rather entertaining if not alarming thing to watch. He was certain she was going to topple off the animal, breaking something in the process, the way she gesticulated wildly while recounting some nonsensical story or another. Comparatively, Cole clung to his saddle like his life depended on it, still unsure of what to make about the relatively new means of transport for him. Blackwall rode alongside them, chuckling here and now, trying to remain as stoic as possible despite his companions’ shenanigans. His composure was rivalled only by the Seeker’s, whose scowl and disgruntled snorts could be heard from twenty paces back.

It appeared that almost everyone in the Inquisitor’s inner circle had come along for the journey (to cheer him on, he hoped), aside from Vivienne, who had dismissed the entire affair as some backwater gathering of uncouth common folk and not something she would deign to honour with her presence; Morrigan and Keiran, though he was unsurprised at that given how much the curious apostate and her son remained withdrawn from the rest of Skyhold’s family; and Leliana, who was in charge of operations while they were away. 

Then there was the Inquisitor herself, riding on the proudest mount they had, fit for a queen. The sun was shining down on her, crowning her auburn tinted hair in a ring of fire, and she was surrounded protectively by her adoring companions looking much like Andraste amidst her followers. A true herald, despite what she told them after coming out of the Fade at Adamant. She seemed completely at ease riding through the countryside, a trait that obviously came from the many months she spent on the road closing rifts and solving Thedas’s problems, no matter how big or small. His heart swelled with pride as he watched her, knowing that she was his, and he hers.

As he watched her joking and laughing among her friends, her eye caught his and she cast him a sly smile, a cheeky little grin she reserved just for him. He smirked in return and watched as she leaned over in her saddle to whisper something to Dorian before she turned her mount around and joined Cullen. His smile spread as she galloped up to him. Maker, but she was a beautiful creature.

“Enjoying the scenery, Commander?” she teased as she approached. He smiled openly in return.

“It’s a beautiful day, Inquisitor. Who wouldn’t want to sit back and enjoy it?” She grinned at him as she fell in step. 

“Didn’t you used to hail from these parts?” she asked and cocked her head to the side, casting a glance about her. “Do you recognize anything? I know you were young when you left.”

His smile faded somewhat as he thought about how much the landscape had changed over the years. Though there were some familiar places, he barely recognized it now, though whether that was from the toll the blight took or his own fading memory, he couldn’t be certain.

“A few things,” he admitted. “One place in particular comes to mind but it’s off the path a ways. I haven’t been there in ages. Care to join me?” he asked tentatively, suddenly inspired to check out a refuge he held very dear to his heart, someplace he hadn’t been in more years than he could remember. Before the Inquisitor, before Kirkwall, before Kinloch- before everything that he had dreamed of turned to ashes.

“Ok,” she replied, her face brightening even more than he thought possible. “Lead the way, Commander.”

Cullen grinned and took a quick moment to turn things over to his lieutenant while he set off on their little side track. He motioned for her to follow and in no time they were galloping through the countryside, headed towards a small hill pass that thankfully remained as familiar as it had all those years before when he sought refuge beyond its narrow passage.

As they passed through, they rounded a corner and came upon a small lake, flanked on the sides by the beginnings of the Southron Hills. Off in the middle of the lake was an old tower of sorts, likely abandoned after the blight, and an old wooden dock led out a ways into the water giving good access to fishing boats, though none remained docked now. The air surrounding the water was cool and fresh, different than the warm grassy smells from the open fields just on the other side of the rock face from whence they came. Cullen dismounted and Catlyn followed, allowing their mounts to graze lazily in the tall grass surrounding the lake. The pair walked out on the dock and Cullen was amazed that even after all this time, it still held strong- a testament to the hard working Fereldans who built things to last.

“What is this place Cullen?” she asked, her voice filled with awe. He was filled with warm satisfaction at her reaction. The place had been very special to him and he was glad she recognized its uniqueness.

“I love my siblings but they were very loud,” he explained wryly. “I came here to escape whenever things got too crazy at home. It was always peaceful, just as it is now, and whenever I needed a bit of that in my life this was where I turned to.”

She stood staring out at the water, a small smile playing on her lips. “When did you last see them?” Her question startled him a bit.

“My siblings?” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I’m ashamed to admit that it’s very likely been 12 years since I last saw them. I’ve heard from my eldest sister Mia on occasion. In fact it was her letters that kept me sane after everything that happened at Kinloch. After Kirkwall, I fell out of touch once more. She was most put out with me when she discovered that I had taken up with the Inquisition. Now that she knows where I am, she sends regular updates and has been relentless in her plight to have me visit.”

“So why don’t you?” she asked inquisitively. “Visit them, that is? Wait- isn’t she in South Reach? Surely you sent word that you were coming?”

Cullen sighed, embarrassed by his actions, or lack thereof. In truth he had thought about writing her, but then the thought of Mia seeing him now after so many years gripped him with fear. So much had happened, so much to change the bright young boy he was when he left. Would she even recognize him anymore? The thought of seeing the sad, humiliated look on her face as she met her favourite brother was too much for him to bear.

“No, I didn’t write. I considered it but decided it was for the best. I need to remain focussed on the task at hand and I have enough distractions as it is.” The pair fell silent again and he averted his gaze in an effort to avoid any disapproving look she may be casting him. When he finally dared sneak a peek, her eyes met his and were filled not with disapproval or disgust at the coward he was, but with understanding and compassion. Once again he thanked the Maker for the lucky man he was- which reminded him of something he had been meaning to do.

“Humour me,” he murmured softly, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he reached for her hand and held it gently within his. It felt soft and warm, though the callouses along the pads of her palm and fingers betrayed any chance of her being a pampered noblewoman. He reached into a deep pocket concealed within his garments and pulled out an old coin. He held it up and looked at it, flashes of the day he was given it appearing in his mind.

“My brother, Branson, gave this to me the day I left to join the Templars. Told me it was a lucky coin. I didn’t really believe him- whenever Bran acquired anything of worth, he was as covetous as sin and would never share it unless mother told him to. But the look in his eyes when he gave it to me…” Cullen trailed off for a moment, lost in thought. “I think it was his way of saying he was going to miss me and that meant more to me than anything else. As a Templar, I wasn’t allowed to keep any material possessions but this I couldn’t bear to part with. I’ve had it ever since- it saw me through Kinloch, Kirkwall, Haven. Maybe the cheeky brute was right and it is lucky after all,” he chuckled. 

“Sounds like he means a great deal to you,” she smiled in return, squeezing his hand gently. 

“He does. I should never have let the distance grow, but it’s something I’ve accepted and have learned to live with. I’m not sure I could live with the same distance growing between us, despite what I tried to convince myself of earlier. You have far more danger to face than I do. It would mean a lot to me if you took this. You know, to keep you safe. A little luck couldn’t hurt, right?” he smiled nervously at her, hopeful that she would accept the token. It meant so much to him and he hoped she realized he felt the same way about her.

She glanced down at the coin that he pressed in her hand and chewed her lip thoughtfully. After a pause, she turned the coin over in her hand and pressed it back into his palm. His heart lurched in response.

“I tell you what. You make it through this tournament alive and I promise to take the coin. As capable as I think you are, it wouldn’t hurt to keep some luck on your side a little longer.” The smile she gave him could brighten the darkest day and relief flooded him.

“It’s a deal,” he accepted and pulled her close to him to press his lips against her warm and inviting ones. Her arms circled his neck and her fingers found their way into his messy curls, slightly dampened from the long ride. He loved the feeling of her nails gently raking their way along his scalp as she tugged at his tendrils and deepened their kiss in response. She moaned softly against him and he felt his arousal twitch with need. He wanted nothing more than to devour her on the spot, to claim her as his and ravish her body with all the love and tenderness he could manage. But as secluded as the spot was, the others might wonder what was taking them so long and come looking for them. Although he wasn’t ashamed at their relationship, he didn’t want to share it with the world just yet. He took a deep inhale and pulled away, resting his forehead on hers to avoid breaking the connection completely.

“The things you do to me,” he groaned, breathing deeply to try and slow his racing heart. He could tell from her raspy breathing that she was just as taken as he was and it took all his Templar training to try and contain himself.

“Save your energy for the tournament, Commander,” she joked, dropping her hands to his face and bringing it up to meet her gaze. “You’ll need it for all the celebrating we’ll be doing after your victory.”

Cullen laughed. “I’m glad you have faith in me, my lady,” he quipped.

“I do Commander, and it wouldn’t take a tournament to prove it. But as we’re almost there and Varric has a rather healthy pool started, it would be a shame not to show, don’t you think?”

Cullen smirked at her. “Let’s not keep them waiting then, shall we?” He took her hand in his and led them back to where their mounts had wandered off to, then headed back through the pass to rejoin the group that had put only a slight distance between them and the lake.

****

 

It took them the rest of the day and better part of the next before the thatched rooftops of South Reach came into view. On their descent into the town, Cullen’s gaze meandered over the entries to the homes lining the street. He wondered if any of them belonged to his sister and whether she could have had any idea that he might have been there. He pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to let guilt worm its way into the forefront of his mind when he knew it would take every ounce of focus to get him through the next twenty-four hours. That evening the Inquisition party was to spend with the arl on official business before the tournament began in the morning. The entire event was expected to last a day, given the number of contestants that had been invited to participate. Cullen knew very little of his challengers other than for the most part they were locals all vying for a piece of the Bannorn to call their own, though a few were more seasoned fighters that belonged to others banns looking to expand their holdings and power. Josephine had offered to find out more about his opponents but Cullen refused, not wanting to discover something about them that might weaken his confidence. It was tenuous at best as it was.

The group arrived in the main square and dismounted, handing their reigns over to their crew who led them over to the stables outside of the inn where they were expected to stay. Cullen made his way over to the carriage and helped Josephine out as Catlyn came over to join them.

“So Josie, here we are, all in one piece just as I promised,” she flashed her most winsome smile at her ambassador. One of Josephine’s arguments was that they could be attacked by bandits along the way and if Catlyn had been on horseback, she might have been an easy target for an archer. Catlyn of course dismissed her concerns with a wave of her hand and was looking especially smug as she greeted the woman.

“Just because we made it here safely does not mean the risk was any less great than it was,” Josephine sniffed in response before quickly changing the subject. “We are to meet Arl Teagan here before settling into our accommodations. Ah, here he is now!” she exclaimed, though her sudden exuberance was quickly darkened by her furrowed brow. The others followed her stare to watch the unusually large retinue follow the arl across the square towards them. Fereldan banners were being held by stewards who trotted dutifully along with them. In the middle of the pack, beside the arl, strode a handsome blonde man with a wry grin twitching at his mouth. “Maker’s breath,” she swore, surprising both Cullen and Catlyn who both rarely, if ever, saw the ambassador flustered. “He’s brought the king.”

Catlyn was the first to register shock, though Cullen quickly followed suit, groaning inwardly at the change in circumstances. The tournament was a common enough thing around Fereldan, not usually something warranting such royal attention. Of course, with his luck, the presence of the Inquisitor no doubt drew the king out from his palace in Denerim who, like any other great power in Thedas, would jump at the chance to seek an audience with her. On his land, no less.

“Ambassador Montilyet, it’s a pleasure to see you as always,” the arl greeted them warmly. “We are honoured that the Inquisition would travel all this way for our humble proceedings.”

“My lord, the honour is ours,” Josephine replied, bowing her head gracefully in return. “Though had I known we would be graced by his majesty’s presence, I would have made suitable adjustments to our entourage,” she added curtly.

“Ah yes, that was a bit of a last minute addition on our side Ambassador,” the arl winced in reply. Evidently he had not meant for the ambush. “I apologize for the surprise. It is my honour to introduce to you His Majesty King Alistair Theirin.” 

“Your Majesty, we are humbled by your presence,” Josephine curtsied gracefully before the king. 

“Please Ambassador, it is me who should be apologizing,” the king replied easily. “When I learned that the Inquisitor would be travelling to Fereldan and yet again bypassing Denerim, I had to act. Can’t let those Orlesian royals be the only rulers to claim having met her!” he laughed and nudged his uncle. 

“I assure you, Your Majesty, the Inquisition meant no insult,” Josephine gushed, flustered beyond words. Cullen had never recalled seeing her so distraught before. “The Inquisitor had so many urgent matters to attend to in Orlais, all related to the breach and the Elder One, that her immediate attention was required there. Given our first opportunity we would have made arrangements to travel to Denerim to meet with you as any respectful monarch should expect.”

“No apologies necessary Lady Montilyet. I know as well as the next person how trouble brews naturally in the Orlesian Empire. We’re far too civilized over here for that nonsense,” he drawled and winked at Catlyn who smiled broadly in return. Cullen suppressed a laugh. It was well-known that King Alistair wasn’t one for formalities, never having been raised to be a ruler, and his familiar unassuming demeanour had been known to throw off even the most seasoned diplomats. 

“Now tell me, unless there is another Herald of Andraste with a glowing green hand out there, this must be the same woman I met many months ago all too quickly- and under far less pleasing circumstances, might I add- back in Redcliffe,” he quipped, standing expectantly in front of Catlyn. Josephine quickly found her wits that the king had substantially decimated and cleared her throat.

“Your Majesty, may I present to you the Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor, Lady Catlyn Trevelyan.”

Catlyn bowed deeply in front of the grinning monarch. “It is an honour to see you again, Your Majesty.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, I assure you!” he replied, bowing himself with a flourish before leaning in closer in a conspiratorial manner. “I’m actually relieved we get to do this away from the palace. You know how court can be. Full of courtly manners and protocol and things. Much more relaxed out here in the countryside!” he exclaimed. Cullen watched as Catlyn choked on a snort. The King of Fereldan was certainly not what anyone would have expected.

“Will the queen be joining us as well, Your Majesty?” Josephine inquired politely, trying to get ahead of any further surprises the monarch might throw her way.

The king attempted the most genuine disappointed look he could muster, though he failed rather miserably. “Unfortunately Queen Anora is held up in Denerim- you know, important country-running business- and couldn’t join us. But if you ask me, that’s why we make such a great team. She loves making the machine run behind the scenes while I enjoy being its face. So here I am on official royal business, ready to partake in all the celebrations and festivities this great town has to offer. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it!” he declared gaily. It was also a well-known fact that the king and queen rarely undertook business together unless absolutely required to do so. The pair had joined following the events of the fifth blight but there was little joy in their union. Everyone knew the king’s heart belonged to the Hero of Fereldan but rumour had it that it was her persuasion that left Anora on the throne with Alistair. In her trademark selflessness, she believed the nation would be better united with the two of them on the throne and, after an adjustment period following the Battle of Denerim, slowly faded into the shadows, focussing on her role as the Warden-Commander of Fereldan. That didn’t stop the hushed whispers from claiming the king still sought every opportunity to see her but given everything they had sacrificed for their country, people turned a blind eye to the affair, the queen included.

“Of course we understand that her obligations would keep her in the capital. Please convey our warmest greetings to her majesty,” Josephine said, bowing again politely.

“Right, now that’s settled, let’s move on to the less formal part of the programme, shall we?” the king clapped his hands together before narrowing his eyes mischievously. “I’ll admit Inquisitor, I wasn’t the only one who was eager to travel here to see you. Imagine my surprise when I discovered we had a mutual friend! And another former Antivan Crow no less. What are the odds?” he asked no one in particular. 

Cullen quickly glanced over at Catlyn who stood perplexed, unsure of what to make of the king’s surprise. The king shifted slightly to the side and the retainers behind him parted to allow a handsome blonde elf stride through to meet them. Cullen watched closely as Catlyn’s expression went from one of confusion, to shock- to sheer happiness.

“Zev?!” she cried out to the now grinning man standing before them, his full lips parted to reveal perfectly straight teeth flashing in the sunlight. Cullen’s stomach bottomed out as he watched the scene unfold.

“ _Sorellina, me amore! _” the man cried and threw his arms out to pull her into a deep embrace. Cullen could feel the blood rushing to his face and the anger build up from his toes like steam forcing its way out of a kettle. Who was this man and why was he snogging his woman?__

Catlyn giggled excitedly like a little girl and squeezed him tightly. “Oh Zev, what are you even doing here? I thought I would never see you again!”

“And miss gazing upon your blossoming beauty? Never!” he exclaimed, setting her back down on her feet. “I ran into unfortunate circumstances abroad and needed a place to relax for a while, and my good friend Alistair here offered me sanctuary. It is good to know people in high places, no?” he declared, the grin on his face only as foolishly big as the one on Catlyn’s. Who in the Maker’s name was this man and why was he holding her hips in an all too familiar way?

A low rumble emanated from somewhere in their midst and it wasn’t until all eyes turned on him that he realized he was making the sound. Catlyn’s eyes shot open wide in surprise as she stared at him before the look was quickly replaced by a curious smirk. She stepped away from the man and moved to Cullen’s side, though his eyes never left the mysterious intruder standing before him. He could sense her proximity- closer than would be expected of colleagues, but not too much as to be considered inappropriate.

“You forget yourself ser,” he grumbled at the stranger, his hand squeezing the pommel of his sword threateningly. “You stand before the Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste, not some _sorellina _you picked up at some tavern,” he said, his tone menacing. The man at least had the decency to look somewhat uncomfortable.__

“Forgive me…?”

“Commander Rutherford, leader of the Inquisition forces,” Cullen offered, opting to use his family name instead of his first just to underline the disapproval he felt.

“Ah yes, Commander Rutherford,” he continued, his tone ingratiating. “Forgive me Commander, I believe you misunderstood my intentions-”

“There was hardly any misunderstanding of you publicly fondling the Herald of Andraste,” Cullen cut in through clenched teeth.

The man looked surprised and cleared his throat. He took a step back and leaned in towards the king who was trying very hard to supress a grin. “Alistair, my friend, what is it with you Fereldan men? Very territorial, no?”

The king let out a deep chuckle. “I don’t know Zev, I’m fairly certain that most men, regardless of their race, would take offense to openly groping someone they were sworn to protect.”

“Ah yes, I see,” he replied with relief, shaking his head as he chuckled to himself. Cullen did not appreciate at all the laugh they seemed to be sharing at his expense. “As I was saying Commander, you misunderstand my intentions. _Sorellina _means little sister. It has been more than ten years since I have seen your Herald and it was under very different circumstances, I can assure you.”__

“Even though he was from a different house, Gaspar was quite fond of Zev,” Catlyn chimed in, her voice also laced with mirth. “I was thirteen when we first met and Zevran what, a decade older?”

Zevran clutched his hand to his heart, feigning grave injury. “Catlyn my dearest, you wound me. Five years at most,” he declared.

“Liar,” she snorted and shook her head. “Regardless, I was the skinned-knee tagalong that begged to play at assassin with Zev and his trio. He was kind enough to indulge me on occasion, whenever he wasn’t running around making a name for himself as one of the most skilled Crows in Antiva,” she added with a grin.

Zevran chuckled immodestly. “It is true, I remember when she was as flat as board and desperate to play with the big kids. Though I must say, I am very impressed my little kitten! You are no longer among the other cuchillos and have developed every luscious curve that would be expected of such a fine specimen,” he added lasciviously, earning himself another deadly stare from Cullen. “Ahaa, right. Territorial. All of which to say, Catlyn will forever in my eyes be that gangly little girl who used to follow me along like a lost puppy. I meant no disrespect, Commander,” he added, genuinely this time.

“So long as you recognize that she is no longer a little girl and now heads one of the greatest forces in Thedas,” Cullen replied ominously, still unwilling to forgive the overt display of affection.

“Next to Fereldan’s of course!” the king chimed in good naturedly. Cullen winced slightly, having forgotten the others present for the exchange.

“Of course, Your Majesty, I meant no disrespect to my homeland,” he bowed for the king in apology. 

“Come on now Commander, you know me better than that! Though admittedly we crossed paths under wildly different circumstances ten years ago, but regardless, we’re all friends here, right?” the king declared, placing himself between the assassin and bristly commander,and tossing his arms around their shoulders. “Now I came here for a good time. Let’s not waste anymore breath on hostilities. On to the tavern, shall we?”

“Your Majesty, the Inquisitor and her companions have only just arrived,” the arl cut in politely. “Might we not let them take some time to settle in following their journey?”

“Of course, how rude of me! You’ll forgive me though if I head over and get started without you, of course? I hear they have the finest blue cheese in all of Fereldan,” he smiled eagerly and rubbed his hands together, releasing both Zevran and Cullen in the process. 

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Josephine replied with a curtsy. “Some of us care to freshen up after such a long ride. It will be our pleasure to join you for dinner this evening.”

“Don’t keep us waiting too long or there won’t be any cheese left!” the king warned them. Although he was smiling, Cullen got the distinct impression there was some truth to that statement. He watched as the king and his retinue along with the arl took off into the tavern, an unexpected sight given the royal proclivity towards pomp and circumstance. It made him proud to know that the king of his homeland still maintained some sense of pragmatism, much like Catlyn had since taking on both the title of Inquisitor and Lady Trevelyan.

He was, however, unimpressed that the over exuberant assassin remained behind.

Cullen stood glaring at the assassin, still unimpressed with the familiarity with which he handled himself near Catlyn. He could tell the man was unscrupulous just by the way he handled himself and the thought of him cozying up to the Inquisitor was too much for him to bear.

“I will ensure everything is ready to welcome you at the inn, Inquisitor,” Josephine said, officious and organized as ever. “I will send someone when your room is ready. Will you be needing me for anything in particular?” she asked, one eyebrow raised in the direction of the smiling elf.

“Thank you Ambassador,” Catlyn replied with a smile, “but that won’t be necessary.” The woman inclined her head and turned in the direction of the inn. Cullen, Catlyn and the elf remained standing in a small circle, the rest of Catlyn’s companions lurking nearby but not wanting to intrude on the interesting triangle.

“So Zev, what trouble did you get up to that had you running to the King of Fereldan?” Catlyn inquired with a knowing grin. 

“As a matter of fact, it was an errand for an old friend of ours,” he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly in a grimace. “I’m very sorry about what happened at the Conclave, little kitten. I know how close you were.”

Catlyn winced and Cullen caught her jaw clench, a sure sign that she was struggling to keep a handle on her emotions. “He was your friend too,” she whispered softly. The man nodded his head in agreement. “What did he have you doing for him? How did he even know where to find you? After what happened with Tali, I thought we would never hear from you again. I’m very sorry too, by the way. How that all ended.”

It was the elf’s turn now to grimace. “Unfortunate that it was, things are even now. No need to dwell on the past. Seeing as how Gaspar was not a part of my house, we were able to keep a channel open, albeit not a well-advertised one. From time to time when he needed some personal things tended to, I lent him a hand. He was a good man, one of the better ones among the Crows,” Zevran added, his voice soft and solemn. For a moment Cullen almost forgot how offensive he had initially found him. “He had business in Ostwick he wanted tied up. I took care of it for him.”

“Ostwick?” Catlyn’s tone was sharp. “What did he want done in Ostwick?”

Zevran merely stared at her. “A loose end, he said. Nothing more. After I took care of that, I got involved in a few other affairs that led to my sudden need for sanctuary.”

Catlyn was about to open her mouth once more when a massive mabari war hound came bounding up to them, barking wildly. Catlyn took a step back, startled. “What in the Maker?” she exclaimed.

“Ah, Grunt! I was wondering where you went off to,” Zevran greeted the dog with a rough scratch behind the head. The dog nudged his hand gratefully and then proceeded to stare invitingly at Catlyn, his little tail wagging excitedly.

“Zev, since when did you keep large Fereldan war dogs as a pet?” Catlyn laughed, a questioning look on her face.

“Grunt belongs to a dear friend of mine who was unable to bring him with her on her latest expedition. I promised to keep him safe while she was gone,” he answered easily. Something in Cullen’s mind clicked as he recalled the visit that was made years ago to Kinloch Hold during the blight. He looked over at Catlyn who was eyeing her old friend curiously as if her mind were working something over too.

“Why did Gaspar send you, Zev?” she asked again finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zevran returned her look plainly. “Given your recent rise in the world, I thought perhaps you could tell me, Lady Trevelyan,” he replied, though his tone wasn’t threatening at all, merely questioning. Catlyn didn’t reply, she simply continued to stare at her friend as if something had passed between them. Knowing what he did about the circumstances surrounding her father’s death and the subsequent letter she received from her old patron, Cullen wondered whether there might have been a connection there. He knew how much she valued the secrecy behind her father’s death and if somehow this friend of hers was also aware, he wondered whether this was the source of her discomfort. Quickly she averted her gaze and bent down to greet the mabari who had been waiting patiently throughout the exchange.

“Grunt, it is a pleasure to meet you,” she said formally and the dog barked proudly in reply before immediately rolling on his back and exposing his stomach wantonly to her. She chuckled and gave his belly a rough rub, eliciting happy little grumbles from the animal. 

“He’s as easy as you are Zev! You must be rubbing off on him,” she teased.

“No one believes me when I say my intentions are always pure,” he complained in return.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, Inquisitor, but the king is expecting us,” Cullen cut in, sensing the opportunity to move things along and hopefully away from the Crow.

“Right. Can’t have him overindulge on all the fine cheese, can we?” she replied with a grin. “You’ll be joining us later Zev?” Cullen frowned inwardly but was resigned to the fact that the man was likely going to be among them for the next few days.

“Of course, sorellina. We have much to catch up on, including how you managed to find yourself with that glowing green mark, yes? I will find you after dinner later.” He gave her a quick chaste peck on the cheek, throwing his hands up in defence at Cullen who glowered at him as he quickly backed away and headed off into the town. Cullen watched him go to make sure he continued to head away from them.

“That’s a lovely shade of green you wear, Commander. It almost rivals the one on my hand. Are you trying to coordinate with me?” Catlyn inquired impishly.

Cullen cast her a sidelong glance, unimpressed by her teasing. “Forgive me for defending your honour, Inquisitor,” he replied coolly. “Typically it is viewed as inappropriate for a stranger to approach someone of your stature with such familiarity.”

Catlyn giggled and bumped his shoulder slightly. “Knowing what _sorellina _means might have helped things I imagine.”__

“Learning Antivan was never high on my list of accomplishments to pursue,” he remarked disdainfully, earning himself another chuckle from Catlyn who was clearly enjoying his discomfiture.

“Who was that interesting fellow?” Dorian inquired, casually strutting up to them. “Terrible taste in clothing, mind you, bit seemed amiable enough.”

“Old friend,” Catlyn replied with a smile. 

“Ahh. Old friend, or old friend,” he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Cullen glowered at his friend murderously though Dorian appeared oblivious to his displeasure.

“Brother of sorts,” she replied. “Stop teasing Dorian, Cullen needs his energy for the tournament tomorrow,” she chastised him despite the twinkle in her eye.

“Eye on the prize as they say!” he agreed and slapped Cullen on the shoulder. “Shall we settle in then? I heard the king is in town for the festivities. I do so love the fact that Madam de Fer opted not to join us on this excursion. It will make her blood boil to know that she missed an occasion to fawn over royalty.”

Sighing, Cullen followed the pair into the inn where Josephine awaited them. With a somewhat formal dinner ahead, the Crow to sulk about, and the tournament weighing on his mind, he knew he was in for a long night.


	53. Let the Tournament Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected bit of Cullen's past comes back to haunt him just as he gets ready to face the fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. I hope to update more regularly again.

Catlyn lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. The events of the past twelve hours had been a lot to take in. She never expected the king to arrive at the tournament and that alone had sent her party into a bit of a tailspin. Josie was beside herself and wasted no opportunity to point out to Catlyn her foresight in packing just a few extra items should ever a case such as this one arise. Catlyn didn’t honestly care what she wore in the presence of a monarch but as it mattered so very much to Josephine (and some small part of her understood the need, though she didn’t like it), she played along. The king turned out to be more pleasant than she could have ever imagined and the evening had been more than just tolerable- she had truly enjoyed herself. Between Alistair’s first hand tales of the Blight and Varric’s legendary story-telling, the crowd that had gathered in the tavern was light and jovial, and had it not been for the fact that many of the attendees, Cullen in particular, needed to get a good night’s rest before the tournament the next day, the night could have worn on until dawn.

As it were, her night was bleeding into dawn as she lay in bed lost in thought. She couldn’t help but worry about Cullen and what he would be facing in the morning. She knew he was one of the best swordsman in Thedas, had seen it for herself in the training yards, at Samson’s lair, and Adamant; but he was so vulnerable right now standing on the precipice of potential ruin because of the Maker-damned lyrium that she worried he wouldn’t be able to handle the five arduous rounds of fighting ahead of him. She knew she needed to be supportive and strong for him, but it didn’t help that she still felt the entire thing was a risk not worth taking. 

Then there was Zevran. She had been so surprised- shocked even- when she saw him. It had been years since they were running the streets of Antiva City together; or more accurately, that she was chasing him through the streets, desperate to be even half as good as him. The reunion turned bittersweet once she made the connection between her grandmother’s death and his presence in Ostwick. Emeric had told her that it was an elf and his mabari that obstructed the carriage and sent it careening over into the ditch. It couldn’t have been a coincidence; she knew that without a doubt. What she was less sure of was how much Gaspar had told him, how much he knew about her father’s death, and the fear coiled like a viper in the pit of her stomach waiting to strike. She was desperate to find a way to uncover the truth without revealing anything unnecessarily but nothing obvious came to mind. She couldn’t just ask- he would know something was up. She didn’t have a choice but to sit and bide her time and if there was anything she was becoming increasingly poor at it was being patient. This would be difficult.

She sighed in resignation as the light slowly brightened her room. It’s a good thing she wasn’t the one fighting today, she thought to herself as she swung her legs over the side and got ready to cheer on her man.

***  
They were gathered in a tent setup just outside of the tournament grounds where the contestants were gathered, preparing for the battles to begin. Cullen looked positively domineering in his full silverite armour and sword shining from the repeated polishing he had given it over the past few weeks. It almost seemed unfair how superior he appeared among the other worthy contenders. Most came from humble means, their armour well cared for but simple, not much stronger than boiled leather. A few others wore impressive suits as well, though none rivalled the Commander of the Inquisition’s.

Still, with skill a man could take anyone out regardless of the quality of their weapons and armour and Catlyn knew that Cullen was acutely aware of this fact. He was trying his best to exude confidence but she knew him well enough to spot the tells that gave him away. For one, when he was angry he simply clenched his jaw, but when nervous he chewed on the inside his cheek. His fingers were also restless when he was nervous about something and at the moment they were flexing and releasing as if he were rowing a boat.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice raised just enough for him to hear it over the chatter surrounding them. She wondered when he had taken his last draught, the very last one he would be allowed before having to make the fateful decision.

He tilted his head and cracked his neck. “I just want to get this over with,” he replied gruffly before shooting her an apologetic look. She nodded and subtly reached for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze of reassurance.

“Right, so I’ve had a look around and I think I’ve narrowed down your competition to a few men, no more,” Dorian announced as he approached them through the crowd, careful to keep his voice down. “Most are farm folk- it’s very touching how they think they stand a chance here. You Fereldans certainly do have peculiar customs, have I ever mentioned that before?” he added, though he ignored the even glare Cullen returned him. “Elsewhere in the world there would be months, if not years, of political and ancestral scheming and plotting, several assassinations, numerous bribes and perhaps a few good soirees in order to determine who would emerge as the new title-holder. Here you boil it down to one day, one lousy tournament of peasants and mercenaries, among a few others, and then go about your business as if no one was the better for it. It’s really disappointing, I have to say,” he admitted disapprovingly, earning nothing more than a continued glare from Cullen.

“Dorian, your point, please?” Catlyn cut in, fixing her friend with a look of her own.

“Right, competition. There are a few mercenaries who look like they know their way around the battlefield. I think a couple are hired champions, if you will, of some other local banns looking to increase their holdings. One might even be in it for himself, if I overhear correctly.”

“You’re spying on the other contestants?” Cullen asked, a surprised look on his tense features.

“Well of course I am!” Dorian exclaimed. “Do you really think we would let you go out there without knowing anything about what you’re up against? Oh Maker, you can’t be serious!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “My dear Commander, it’s touching to see that you have faith in your ability to emerge victorious in any battle but you do realize that in most cases, you come prepared? What could you possibly know about the other people here? You’ve been so focussed on Red Templars and darkspawn magisters to know anything at all about the people gathered here today which puts you at a distinct disadvantage. I would wager that most of the men here have fought each other or know someone who has fought with them enough to know what they are up against. You know nothing about them, not having set foot in these areas in years. Any information we can glean in the short amount of time we have can only be helpful.”

Catlyn smothered a smile behind a hand as she watched Cullen glare at their friend. She knew his pride wouldn’t enjoy this bitter pill but Dorian was right. He was at a disadvantage in that respect. She wondered whether he would accept the information or not and was relieved to see Cullen drop his shoulders slightly in acquiescence.

“Alright Dorian. What do you know that I don’t?” he replied grudgingly. Catlyn listened as Dorian divulged a surprising amount of information that he had managed to gather on his opponents. It appeared he was in a much stronger position than most, which provided Catlyn with some measure of reassurance. She could handle him losing, but she wasn’t sure how well it would sit with Cullen despite his statements to the contrary.

As she stood listening to the pair, her eyes caught the form of a rather angry looking man seething at them from across the crowd. He wasn’t a particularly attractive looking man, but he was clearly a seasoned fighter, judging by the scars on his face and the size of his frame. He had fixated Cullen with a wicked looking stare and Catlyn could almost sense the malice radiating from him like heat from the smithy fires. She watched hesitantly as the man pushed his way through the crowd that eventually parted way for him, allowing a path directly to where she, Dorian and Cullen stood. She placed her hand on Cullen’s arm and when he turned to look at her questioningly, she motioned in the direction of the looming man. 

“Didn’t expect to see you slumming here, Rutherford. Thought you were too fancy now for these places,” the man ground out his welcome with as much warmth as ice caps on the Frostbacks. “Not even sure you should be here. Are you even considered a Fereldan anymore?” His tone was cold and accusatory, and a group of three men surrounding him appeared to share their apparent leader’s views judging by the stance they look. By the way he stared at them, Catlyn could tell Cullen had very little to no idea who this hostile man was. 

The leader of the pack laughed a short, angry bark at his friends who joined in with his mirthless chuckle. “Too important to even speak to us common folk now are you Rutherford? Or are the rumours about Kinloch and Kirkwall really true and you’ve lost your mind as well?” 

“I didn’t realize my presence had given you such offence, Ser,” Cullen replied hard but hesitantly. It was obvious he couldn’t place the man but was reluctant to admit it. The man chuckled in response.

“ _Ser _? What manners you have now. What else did they teach you at the Chantry, aside from being a world class prick?” the man replied. “Did you call my brother Ser when you hunted him down and murdered him?”__

The accusation drew a gasp from the crowd that had quietly gathered to watch the exchange. At that, Catlyn drew the line.

“Who are you to make such accusations against the Commander of the Inquisition Forces?” Catlyn spoke up, her tone very much confident and not at all frightened by the insolent cretin in front of her. His glare shifted from Cullen to her and was laced with no less venom than he had received.

“Is he hiding behind your coattails now? Figures,” he snorted. “Always one to hide behind someone else’s sword. First Greagoir, then that loose cannon up in the “Marches, and now you,” he sneered at her before continuing. “My name is Simon Rowback. My brother Haldon was a mage at Kinloch. He survived the massacre at the Circle and avoided this man’s calls for annulment only to have him hunt him down in cold blood one night. Don’t tell me that isn’t true!” he yelled at Cullen, who had visibly blanched at this point.

“Unless you are able to provide us with irrefutable proof, I would ask that you withdraw these accusations before I have you taken for slander,” Catlyn warned.

“What more proof do I need? My brother was an apprentice at the Circle. He and I were close. He was a good boy- a good mage- and he stole his life like it was his mission to eradicate them all because his commander wouldn’t do it. I heard the rumours, I know he was the one who lost his mind after what happened at Kinloch. My brother didn’t just disappear into thin air!” he cried before regaining his composure. “But fate seems to have dealt me the hand I need to avenge him.” The smile on his face was as evil-looking as the blade he wielded on his belt, crooked and nasty.

“Ah, so you admit to it being rumours. It’s a good thing you never became a sleuth my friend for your skills are somewhat lacking,” Dorian chirped, earning a snicker from the crowd. Still, the man did not back down and Cullen remained motionless, his stare fixated on Simon.

“Now there’s a hypocrite if I ever saw one. A mage defending this man? He would butcher you all if left unchecked,” Simon growled at Dorian, who stared at him, nonplussed by his conjecture. 

“I don’t like repeating myself,” Catlyn spoke up once more and took a step towards the man, her green palm twitching in irritation. “Unless there is some concrete proof you would care to present, I suggest you withdraw yourself from our presence before I do so myself.”

Simon narrowed his eyes at her and scowled. “Just who do you think you are, woman?” Catlyn smiled sweetly as the man standing closest to him leaned over and whispered something about “Inquisitor” in his ear. To her delight, his cocksure stance faltered slightly.

“I’m your worst nightmare waiting to happen, _Ser _, and unless you wish to join your brother by the Maker’s side, I suggest you leave us alone before I make you.” She spoke in a tone that could have been mistaken for an invitation to afternoon tea, though there was no mistaking the pulsating glow from her hand, nor the delightful fireball Dorian was amusing himself with in his hand.__

Thankfully, Simon appeared to value his life enough to back off. “Hide behind these pretty skirts, Rutherford, it makes no difference. You can’t hide out on there and when we cross paths, you’re mine,” he threatened one last time before stalking off to the other side of the tent, his stooges in tow. Catlyn watched the group leave and cast a glare around the rest of the onlookers that had their gazes quickly diverted anywhere but on them. She took a deep breath and turned to face Cullen who remained rooted in place, like he had been cast a frozen spell.

“Are you ok?” she asked, not wanting to risk bringing up anything with so many people still surrounding them. He stared ahead, his eyes unfocussed and unblinking. It was unnerving and Catlyn wasn’t quite sure what to do. He had confided in her once, months ago back in Haven, about the events that transpired following the fall of Kinloch during the Blight. He hadn’t admitted to doing anything, but she could tell that he harboured doubts about his actions. She could never imagine a Cullen who could murder three innocent people in cold blood and refused to believe it was true.

“Cullen, he’s angry over something that was never proven,” she started before Cullen cut her off.

“Haldon Rowback was a kind young man who got caught up in the wrong group of people,” Cullen stated, his voice strong but subdued. He looked at Catlyn and though his amber eyes were sad and haunted, they weren’t guilty. “I wasn’t the cause of his end. I know that now. His brother will never find the peace he hopes for, not with my blood anyways.” They stood staring at each other for what felt like a lifetime before Dorian broke the silence.

“I hate to be the one to cut off such a touching exchange, but I believe they are calling in the contestants now.”

Cullen glanced at him and nodded his head. He inhaled deeply and squared his shoulders, ready to face the gauntlet. “May the Maker watch over me,” he murmured before striding out along with the other fighters, ready to take on the challenge. Catlyn watched as his golden curls retreated from her view and were lost beyond the other side of the tent flaps. 

“Come now darling. You won’t see a thing from down here,” Dorian urged her gently. She shot him a quick smile before following him back out and up into the stands to join the rest of their companions. 

It was quite a scene, really.

Despite the short notice, the crowds in attendance were decidedly bigger thanks to the king’s presence at the tournament. The townsfolk had done what they could to decorate the grounds with all manner of banners and flags in multi colours, which gave the grandstands they erected around the fighting circle a cheery air (if a fighting pit could ever be considered cheery). Roasted nuts and candied confections were sold from young men and women dressed in bright colours, hawking their treats to the excited spectators.

In the centre of the stands was a platform with a makeshift throne placed squarely in the centre, a seat of honour reserved for the king. There were several other chairs surrounding it and Catlyn could see her companions already settled among them. Varric was busy scribbling things down on a piece of parchment, which could only mean he had settled into his role as bookie flawlessly. Sera was leaning over the side of the platform, hanging onto the pillars and leading the crowds like a bawdy cheerleader, complete with ribald cheers and lewd gestures. The Chargers along with their leader were encouraging her themselves from the stands and together they formed an impressive support squad for the Inquisition. Catlyn stifled a laugh as best she could once she caught a glimpse of Josephine’s horrified expression. Clearly this was not the image the ambassador had hoped to cultivate of the Inquisition. Still, the crowd were responding very well- even if Catlyn wasn’t sure they even knew for whom they should be cheering for.

Catlyn followed Dorian up the ladder to the platform where they joined Josephine and Arl Teagan. Josephine looked relieved to see her, as if she may be able to bestow some sort of order to the unruliness her companions had incited. Catlyn shrugged her shoulders helplessly at her and felt sorry for her advisor as Josephine met her with a mortified look. 

“Ah, Inquisitor, welcome. It’s good of you to join us,” the arl greeted her graciously. “The king will be with us shortly to begin the tournament. Are you familiar with the proceedings?”

“I am, my lord,” Catlyn replied with a polite nod. “Thirty-two contestants all paired up, five rounds, winner takes all,” she recited. “May the battles be clean and with honour.”

The arl nodded in agreement. “Indeed, they are not meant to be more than a show of skill in combat and strength. Fatal blows are intolerable and even reckless harm is frowned upon. Usually I would pass judgment on those matters but with the king here today, it shall be he who decides. Let us hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“I couldn’t agree more, my lord,” Catlyn agreed. The arl smiled and motioned her to a seat beside the king’s which she politely accepted and settled herself upon. Dorian took the seat on her left, the arl and Josephine settling themselves on the other side of the throne from them. Catlyn glanced around her and spotted Zevran seated diagonally behind them and gave him a small wave. Her returned the acknowledgement with a smile and a jovial thumb’s up. She snorted in response and saluted him drolly.

As they watched the grounds before them, a horn sounded the entry of the contestants. One by one the men and women filed into the dusty pit below and lined up in a row to present themselves to the king. Catlyn immediately spotted Cullen who stood several men down from Simon, a wise decision on his part. Their eyes met and she gave him a reassuring smile which he returned hesitantly. She silently prayed to the Maker to send him all the strength he could lend to help him make it through this day.

Another horn sounded and everyone rose to greet the king who strode in from below, waving to the cheering crowds and pumping his fist in excitement. The people below them parted and allowed him space to ascend the platform and join Catlyn and the Arl. He smiled gaily and gave her a cheeky bow, which she returned with ease. He was an impossible man to dislike and for once she was happy to be seated among nobility. 

The king stood and addressed the expectant crowd. “My fellow Fereldans, we are gathered here today because our tradition dictates that any vacant seat in the Bannorn has a right to be bestowed to that individual who proves themselves worthy in the eyes of their countrymen. The Bann of Calon lies empty, a victim of the tragedy at the Conclave, collateral of the ongoing Mage-Templar War that plagues our great land and those of our neighbours. May the Lady of Calon rest in peace,” he declared solemnly, bowing his head in recognition. After a pause, he continued. “Before us are men and women who seek the privilege to prove their honour and claim the seat of Calon for themselves. Will you follow the champion of the seat?” he called out to the crowd, which roared its approval. “Will you fight alongside them as your rightful lord as you would do me?” Again the crowd roared, a veritable symphony of shouts and hollers of support. “Then let us wait no longer to announce the winner. Let the tournament begin!”

As Catlyn joined in with the others clapping and whistling, Alistair sank down on the seat beside her and gave her a sly wink. She grinned in return, pleasantly surprised at his ease in public discourse. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I thought you didn’t like playing king. You certainly had me fooled by that little speech,” she joked playfully. 

“What can I say, Inquisitor?” he grinned from ear to ear. “The people love inspiration, and thankfully my people have found it in an awkward bastard who was lucky enough to fight beside the hero of the age. Anora can have her throne- there’s no better place for me to be than among the roaring commoners.” Catlyn laughed freely and inclined her head in recognition.

Within moments the contestants had paired off and the fighting began. Catlyn leaned forward in her seat, her fingers nervously drumming the inside of her palms. Judging by the pairings, the organizers had a good sense of who the likely victors may be and did their best not to pair them against each other in the early rounds. Cullen was matched with a fairly young man who looked about as seasoned as a freshly butchered steak. She watched as Cullen assumed his commander face and tested and taught the young man. In the tournament, the match was won when someone assumed a fatal attack but always they were meant to fall short. These were no true fighting pits where people were pitted against each other like rabid mabaris: it was an exhibition of skill and honour, and no man with either would carry through with the attack. In this case, Cullen could have bested him within minutes the way the young man carried his weapon and left his flank open, but instead he chose to work with him and teach him, as gently as he could, a few things before finally ending the fight in a clean and elegant thrust. The man looked disappointed but shook Cullen’s outstretched hand nonetheless. She watched as Cullen leaned in and said a few words to him and the youth’s face lit up with a small smile, enough to tell her that he had been given a few words of encouragement to help lift his spirits. It was obviously the first time he had participated in such an event and Catlyn’s heart burst with pride to see her commander handle himself with such virtue. She imagined not everyone would do the same and quickly scanned the remaining fighters to land on Simon who had emerged victorious in his pairing with a man nearly twice his age. He strutted about the man as if he had bested Loghain or another famous warrior and not some old seasoned war veteran with nothing left to lose. She snorted contemptuously and was reminded that it wasn’t only the noble class who could be so pretentious.

“He’s something else, your commander is,” the king leaned over towards Catlyn. “Come a long way since I last saw him. Greagoir always said he had been dealt an unfair hand. I think Elissa- I mean, the Hero of Fereldan, saw that in him from the beginning. I certainly see now what they were talking about.”

Catlyn looked up at him with a shy grin. “We are all dealt hands in life, Your Majesty. It’s what we do with them that matters most.”

The king nodded his head in agreement and smiled. “I couldn’t agree more. Enough with the ‘your majesty’ bit though, Maker, didn’t we go over this last night? I am to be called Alistair or his Most Wonderfully Handsome and Illustrious Bastard, but none of this majesty bit among friends,” he grinned. Catlyn couldn’t help but laugh helplessly at his self-deprecating humour. 

“I think Josie would have a conniption if she heard me calling you by your first name, but it shall be as you wish, Alistair,” she replied with a smile. “On one condition though,” she added, her brow furrowed in mock seriousness.

“Anything for the Herald of Andraste, Lady Trevelyan” he declared solemnly. 

Catlyn winced. “None of that ‘Herald of Andraste’ bit, please. Or ‘Lady Trevelyan’. It makes me sound like my grandmother, may she rot in the deepest pit of the Void. If I’m to call you Alistair, I expect nothing other than Cat or Her Inquisitorialness Supreme,” she stated, grinning foolishly in return.

Alistair held his sides while he laughed. “Right, no references to hateful dead relatives nor to the Maker’s Bride. Got it. I believe even I can handle something as simple as that.” Laughing, they shook on it before returning their attention to the next round of fighting that was set to begin.

Cullen was paired up once more with someone below his level but at least the woman knew how to handle a weapon. Catlyn could tell their engagement was easy enough for Cullen, though he was more concentrated than he had been the first time. While he wasn’t going to teach the woman any lessons, he certainly wasn’t going to be outplayed and he bested her in a set of three parries and a carefully timed thrust. The woman looked annoyed with herself at her careless move, but saluted respectfully nonetheless. Two rounds down, three more to go, Catlyn thought to herself. Maybe he would get lucky and they would be all as easy as the first two…

Of course, that would be too much to ask for.

The third round was the first real test of Cullen’s strength. He was pitted against what must have been a former soldier or mercenary of some kind, likely mercenary judging by the quality of his weapons and armour. He fought with dual blades which proved to be a challenge for Cullen’s sword and shield. They engaged for three times longer than the other two rounds had lasted but in the end, Cullen emerged victorious once more. Catlyn could tell that he was beginning to struggle a little, judging by the way his chest heaved more than normal. It was at times like these that she wished she were a mage and could offer him some kind of healing spell or one for strength, even though she knew it was strictly forbidden by the rules of the tournament. No magical assistance or enchantment of any kind was allowed, though it was known that many people tried to sneak in a rune or two without the officials noticing. 

To her disappointment, Simon had also made it through to the second last round. He was paired against the smaller of the two remaining contestants while Cullen earned the test of a man that rivaled the hulk of Bull. She cursed and wondered how no one had managed to spot him earlier. He wasn’t much taller than Cullen but his chest and arms were as thick as trees and the great axe he wielded looked as if it had cut down trunks twice as big as his arms in one fell swoop.

“What exactly is that thing?” Dorian wondered out loud as he gazed curiously at the hulk looking in front of Cullen. “Do you think its mother mated with a Sylvan?”

“Avaar, to be precise,” Alistair piped up. “Thormun ar Rundan o Hakron, though as I understand it he can’t use the ‘o Hakron’ now as he and his parents were disgraced, his father being a non-Avaar. Apparently his clan didn’t take well to his mother conceiving outside of their people. He’s got a healthy dose of resentment built up that he likes to take out on unsuspecting victims. To be honest, I can’t really say why he would take part in a tournament such as this but then again, with the Avaar, who really knows what they’re thinking.”

“Right now he’s looking at our dear commander and thinking he would like to split him down the middle like kindling,” Dorian mused aloud. Catlyn smacked him on the shoulder with the back of her hand. “Easy darling, I didn’t say he would, I’m just saying that’s what the man would like to do.”

“How come your scouting mission missed him?” she asked him accusingly.

Dorian sniffed in response. “If you wanted a full Ben-Hassrath report, you should have sent Bull in.” Catlyn scowled and returned her attention the next round that was beginning. Cullen and Thormun circled each other warily, the latter swinging his axe around a few times for good measure. Cullen wisely kept his distance and waited for the man to make his move. Catlyn was never more grateful for the times Cullen and Bull had sparred in the training rings, even if it was just for demonstration purposes. Bull’s axe rivalled that of the Avaar beast and if nothing else it would have given Cullen a taste of what he was up against now.

The great man shortly grew impatient and made the first move, quickly bringing his axe down in a swooping motion meant to throw Cullen off-balance. Cullen anticipated the move and deftly rolled out of harm’s way before lunging in for a quick counter-attack. Unfortunately for him, the half-Avaar man was quicker than expected and he kicked back out and caught Cullen in the thigh, sending him stumbling backwards. The crowd collectively gasped and Catlyn held her breath and winced in sympathetic pain. That was certainly going to leave a mark. 

Thormun launched himself once more at Cullen, bringing the staff of his axe forward and bashing Cullen’s raised shield, and the ring of metal on metal hummed through the stands. He relentlessly continued his onslaught, hoping that his strength alone would be enough to send Cullen stumbling backwards onto his back.

He was right.

On the fourth shove, Cullen tripped over his feet and landed squarely on his back. Thormun roared in triumph and lifted his axe high above him and aimed for Cullen’s head. The entire crowd gasped- this was taking things a bit too far. The tournament wasn’t meant to be to the death and clearly the giant was getting carried away. Catlyn jumped out from her seat, ready to yell out when her voice caught in her throat. At the last second, Cullen had rolled out of the way and leapt to his feet with the speed and dexterity of a cat. As luck would have it, the great axe came crashing down and lodged itself firmly into the ground beside him. Thormun grunted in surprised frustration but it was too late: Cullen knocked him down with his shield and as the man fell to his side, he seized his chance and pinned him at the throat with his sword. 

The hushed crowd suddenly erupted in cheers as they declared Cullen the winner of the second-to-last round. Catlyn let out a deep breath, not realizing she had failed to breathe since Cullen had fallen. Relief washed over her and she slumped down into her chair like a rag doll.

“I take it back!” Dorian announced. “This little country show is more exciting than I gave it credit for!”

Catlyn turned to glare at her friend. “You call Cullen almost getting split in two exciting?” she hissed.

“Oh come now, that big beast never really stood a chance. He was all muscle and no real skill. Our seasoned Commander had his number from the start,” Dorian scoffed. Catlyn grunted in disgust and turned back to the grounds to see Cullen brushing himself off as the two losing contestants left the field. Their eyes met and he gave her a weak smile, certainly more for her benefit than his as she could tell he was struggling. He limped slightly from the hit he took on the leg and though he was trying valiantly to hide it, she could tell the hurt was severe. 

Her eyes scanned the grounds to locate the remaining opponent and when she did, she groaned inwardly in disappointment. Striding up to Cullen with a smug look on his face was Simon. “Andraste’s flaming knickers,” she grit out between clenched teeth. “It had to be him, didn’t it?” He looked about as satisfied as a pig in shit and she would have given her right hand to wipe the smile off his self-righteous face.

Dorian rubbed his chin and let out a long sigh. “Unless the man is secretly a Templar or perhaps royal guard that we didn’t know about, I highly doubt his skill in battle is anywhere near that of Cullen’s. As you well know, anger and resentment can lead to careless mistakes and we can only hope that the Commander will know when to capitalize on them.” Catlyn merely grunted in response as she tried not to think about all the potential unfortunate outcomes. If some crazed Avaar hulk could nearly take off Cullen’s head just because he was a bit caught up in the moment, what would someone who had years to stoke the fire of retribution do to Cullen instead? 

She didn’t have time to follow that train of thought any longer as the horn sounded once more and the pair squared off.


	54. Making Peace with a Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final round of the tournament and the aftermath

Cullen’s leg throbbed from where the last contestant kicked him and he wouldn’t be surprised at all if his femur was fractured. The boot felt like it was backed with iron the way it crushed down on his thigh. His muscles ached treacherously from the short rounds of fighting and Cullen fought back the anxiety that was rising in his chest when he realized that draught or not, he really was in no position to be pushing himself at all at this point. The first two rounds could barely be considered warm-ups for him and yet he found himself in no short measure aching and puffing his breath like a rookie soldier. 

To make things worse, the pain in his limbs matched the fire that was beginning to grow deep in the base of his skull ever since Simon Rowback had appeared. He hadn’t recognized him at all at first but once the man began talking, he immediately saw the ghost of his brother in his features. He had remembered Haldon from Kinloch: he had been a soft-spoken, gentle youth who had arrived before he did at a fairly young age and was well-liked by most of the residents of the Circle. Before the fall of the Circle, Cullen had gotten along well with him and had been disappointed to see the young man get caught up in an unsavoury group of mages who spent far too much time in the darker sections of the library for his taste. Though they didn’t admit it at the time, he suspected that they harboured sympathies for Uldred and his use of blood magic but it was never proven and they hadn’t been among those that Uldred gathered near him when he took the senior enchanters prisoner in the tower. Cullen thought perhaps Haldon was trying to make them see reason in his gentle, inoffensive sort of way, but he wasn’t close enough with the mage to talk to him about it.

So much of what happened after the Circle fell was still a blur in his mind. He had been hallucinating already at that point and suffered from all manner of post-traumatic stress symptoms, which made it difficult to separate nightmares from reality. Still, although he had heard the rumours himself, he thought that deep down he would know for sure if he had been the one responsible for hunting down the three mages, Haldon included, in cold-blood.

Now, years later and with the mage’s brother throwing accusations his way, his mind suddenly cleared and he remembered what had happened on that fateful night. It was true that Cullen had been suspicious of the group for several weeks at that point and had petitioned Greagoir regularly to have them locked away for fear that they were abominations. The Hero had refused to support the Right of Annulment and Greagoir had relented, but Cullen still believed that there were abominations or at least other blood mages among the survivors. He wasn’t alone in his belief but as new Templars had been sent to bolster the remaining ranks at Kinloch, they didn’t share the same fears quite as wholly as he did and were able to remain more level-headed about the situation than he.

Late one night, while on patrol with another Templar, the pair came across the leader of the group, a mage whose face Cullen could barely recall now, along with another young man and Haldon sneaking out of their quarters. The more senior of the two, Cullen motioned for his partner to back down and follow them instead. He wanted irrefutable proof this time so that he could rid the Circle of three more blood mages. The pair followed the mages into a secluded part of the tower and watched as the leader opened himself up and called upon a demon to aid them in what Cullen could never be sure of, for when he saw the demon it triggered memories of the night the Circle fell and he cried out in shock, attracting the attention of the mages and the demon itself. The leader wasn’t nearly experienced enough to control the spirit and Cullen watched in horror as it turned on its master and companions, bile rising in his throat as he saw Haldon cast aside with a sickening crunch. Horrified that he may be faced with his nightmares once more, Cullen froze and awaited his death, certain that it would have been easier for him to join the Maker’s side than it would be to face anymore atrocities. The other Templar had been shouting out in alarm and luckily was not affected in the same way as Cullen, so when the demon approached he leapt in front of Cullen and pushed him back, leaving him in a heap to watch the scene unfold before him. Luckily others in the tower heard the cries and reinforcements arrived quickly and dispatched the demon back into the Fade where it belonged, but the damage had been done.

Greagoir and Irving were reluctant to let word spread of the failed blood magic attempt within the Circle walls again, so they did their best to cover up what had occurred. Unfortunately for Cullen, he was gently used as a bit of scapegoat, his mental instability being relatively well-known within the Order since the incident with Uldred. He was never accused but a few hushed whispers in closed quarters were enough to plant the seeds of suspicion and before long the truth behind the blood magic faded and the much more appealing story of a Templar gone mad took root. It was shortly thereafter that he was sent away to Greenfell.

In a way, as untimely as this realization was, he was thankful for Simon for allowing him to put that last dwindling fear to rest. While in his heart he had never truly believed the rumours, the doubt still gnawed at him and he was relieved to be able to dispel them. Unfortunately for him, his current situation didn’t allow for much more introspection as Simon circled him with a bestial aggression that was palpable. 

“If you think I’m going to show you any mercy Templar, you’re sorely wrong,” Simon spat out. “I am going to enjoy every blow I strike, all the pain I inflict on you, and be damned what the King’s deems fair, I will spit you and revel in your death even if it costs me the bann,” he declared menacingly. 

“I didn’t kill your brother,” Cullen replied evenly, carefully following the man’s circling steps. “Your revenge will cost you your future and get you nowhere.”

“Liar!” he cried and lunged at Cullen who easily parried the thrust and stepped back out of range. Simon bore his teeth at him in a feral grin and began circling him once more. “You escaped judgment years ago, but you have nowhere to run to now,” he hissed. “Your fancy armour and footwork won’t save you today, Ser. Your shield can’t protect you from what I will do to you.” With that, he launched himself once more at Cullen, this time engaging him in a steady onslaught of attacks from his dual weapons. Cullen defended himself deftly at first, but his opponent’s years of pent-up rage provided him with the stamina Cullen so dearly lacked in his lyrium-deprived body. Before long he was breathing heavily and struggling to keep up. Simon didn’t let up in his attacks like some of the others had and he landed a few slices on some of Cullen’s unprotected gaps between his armour: nothing fatal, but just enough to slow him down even more and make his muscles cry out even louder.

Their battle dragged on for what felt like hours, though in truth it was only minutes. Simon’s thrusts were nonstop and Cullen could do nothing but hang on and defend his position. He didn’t want to seriously harm the man but he was struggling to hold his position and he knew he could never win if he was constantly on the defensive. Finally, fatigue caught up with his opponent and after one weak jab, Cullen was able to knock his smaller weapon out of his hands. Snarling with rage, Simon gripped his sword with both hands and swung at Cullen viciously, raining down hits on his shield like a one-man battering ram. Cullen stumbled back and Simon took advantage of his momentary drop in defence to slice at his open left flank.

Cullen cried out as the blade cut through the fabric of his under-armour and opened up his side. A hot searing pain laced through his abdomen and stole the breath from his lungs. As much as it stung, he knew he had not a moment to spare for his opponent would pounce on any weakness like a lion waiting to devour its next meal. Cullen refused to allow him that victory and threw down his shield, gripping his sword with both hands. He turned and faced Simon who was nearly upon him, a wild fury baring the whites of his eyes. Cullen raised his sword to meet his blow and pushed back with every last bit of strength he could gather, taking the man by surprise and causing him to lose his balance ever so slightly. That was all Cullen needed. 

“I. Didn’t. Kill. Your. Brother!” he roared at him with every blow he unleashed on the man. Cullen drew on all the years of training and battles he experienced as he fought back for his pride, honour, and the truth. The truth that he was not malicious and never had been, even after everything that he had gone through at Kinloch and Kirkwall, and despite what this man accused him of, he knew it wasn’t true. As he pushed back, Simon grew more and more anxious until he finally lost his grip and Cullen knocked the sword out of his hands. He knew that had the situations been reversed, Simon wouldn’t have hesitated to deal a death blow to him and avenge his brother’s death. Even after his false accusations and gaping wound he nursed on his side, Cullen knew he was a better man than that, and instead of returning Simon the same mercy he would have shown him, he brought his sword to within a hair of his throat and held him there.

“Believe what you will, but I didn’t kill your brother,” he growled at him in a voice low enough for only him to hear. “His death was in vain, but don’t let your life be consumed in the same way. I watched him die at the hands of no man and though there is nothing that I can say that will make you see the truth, you dishonour his life with your actions. He doesn’t deserve that,” he added more softly before his eyes hardened and he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Do you yield, Ser?”

Simon stared at him with pure rancor in his eyes but made no other motion. After a silence, he replied, “I yield.” Cullen lowered his sword and backed away but within a second Simon reached for a dagger hidden behind his back and launched himself at Cullen with an anguished cry. Having seen too many desperate souls in battle, Cullen suspected such an attack and dodged the blow, thrusting his arm up to deflect the dagger and using his pommel to knock the man out with a swift blow to the temple. He fell to the ground with a moan and Cullen quickly backed away, not stopping until he was some twenty feet away from the sprawling man. Four royal guards quickly ran out and surrounded Simon, yanking him unceremoniously to his feet and dragged him away. The last thing Cullen remembered seeing was the burning glow from his eyes that still shone with hatred. He shuddered in response and staggered to the side, leaning on his sword for support as a fresh wave of pain and nausea washed over him.

He managed to pull himself together and stand before the expectant crowd. He hadn’t realized that a hush had befallen them and he suddenly felt very awkward standing alone in front of the hundreds of people that were staring back at him. He looked up to the platform where Catlyn stood beside the king. Anger and concern were written all over her face and he could see Dorian’s hand firmly on her arm holding her back in place. He could only imagine the choice words she would have for Simon, though blows would be more likely from her first.

The king stood and addressed the crowd. “Fellow citizens, we have before us the last man standing. He has fought valiantly and with honour. Do you recognize his victory?” The crowd erupted in cheers. “Do you recognize his claim?” Again, thunderous roaring bellowed from the stands as each and every man, woman and child stood and hollered their recognition. The sound pulsated through Cullen like a salve, cleansing him of any lingering pain and fear he may have harboured. He had done it: by his own will he had managed to stand up to any doubts he may have had that he was capable of conquering his inner demons, of earning a prize that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he deserved. Despite his throbbing limbs, he grinned from ear to ear and finally allowed himself to enjoy his moment of victory.

“I give you then your new Bann of Chalon, Cullen Stanton Rutherford!” the king declared to the exuberant and noisy crowd. As they chanted his name, Cullen saluted them before he returned to the holding room below, trying his best to walk as proudly as possible despite his limp. He noticed that Catlyn was no longer beside the king and was unsurprised to see her waiting for him expectantly at the doorway, her face a conflicted mess of relief and rage.

“You stubborn, proud, frustrating man,” she greeted him as he staggered into the room. “You nearly got yourself killed out there, you do know that right? I’m not sure what’s so funny,” she huffed as he chuckled at her rant. He couldn’t help himself: the sight of her unbridled fury despite the fact that everything had ended relatively well (though admittedly his side still hurt like hell) was enough to send him over the edge. 

“I do believe that’s ‘stubborn, proud, frustrating bann’, Inquisitor. You see what I did there? Bann instead of man,” he giggled and winced slightly as she punched him in the arm. Maker, she was strong.

“I don’t care what you’re called, you are no good to me dead and that’s what you almost ended up as!” she exclaimed.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he soothed her, reigning in his laugh and trying his best to calm her down. “The king would have done something if he felt it was getting out of hand.”

“He couldn’t have done much if that lunatic had already run you through,” she countered, only slightly less riled up than she had been initially. “Maker Cullen, I thought…” her voice caught and she trailed off, her furious tone suddenly replaced by an anguished sob that she swallowed back. 

“Hush love, it’s done now,” he replied and pulled her close, inhaling her familiar honey grass scent as he pressed his face into her hair. Her arms encircled his waist and she squeezed him tightly, eliciting a gasp from Cullen as his side flared in a new seething pain from her grip. 

“Shit, oh bloody blast it Cullen, I’m so sorry,” she apologized and pulled away, her hands moving quickly to his injured side. “Is it deep? Maker’s balls Cullen, he butchered you!” she cried as she realized the extent of the damage. 

“It’s superficial, really, a little gauze and the bleeding will stop I’m sure,” he replied stoically, though a sudden wave of nausea surfaced and hit him squarely in the face. “On second thought, perhaps I ought to sit down for a moment.” 

Catlyn grunted but said nothing, propping herself up under his arm and bracing him as they found the closest seat. He sat down in relief and let out a small cry as both his thigh and side protested from the change in posture. 

“Better let Stitches take a look at that Commander,” Bull’s voice came from the side and Cullen looked up to see him, Dorian, Josephine and the Chargers’ healer approaching. “He makes the wickedest potion even though it tastes like boiled nug’s balls.”

“I’ve told you before Boss, it’s not meant to be drunk!” Stitches groaned defensively. Cullen smiled and motioned the man over to tend to his wounds. It turned out his side wasn’t quite as superficial as he made it out to be and the healer looked at him in concern. “I’ll need to suture that Commander and pack it with a poultice. It won’t be pretty and it’s going to hurt,” he warned. Cullen nodded in understanding and the man stood up to leave in search of tools.

“I have a healer in my company Ser,” the king announced as he approached the group. “Arl Teagan will take you to him and you are to ask for anything you may need,” he instructed. Stitched bowed his head in thanks and followed the arl out the back of the hold.

“Your Majesty,” Cullen started and made to stand, but grimaced in pain and froze before he could even get off the seat.

“Don’t be foolish Cullen, there’s no need for the formalities here. Or anytime really,” he added with a grin. “I just came down to make sure you were alright and extend my sincere congratulations on your victory. I know I’m not meant to be partial in these events- Maker, I’m not even supposed to be here really- but I’m really happy it was you who won!” he admitted, smiling like a child being given their first mabari. “The Landsmeets will be so much more enjoyable now that I’ll have someone to talk to other than Anora and her minions!”

Cullen groaned and shook his head with a laugh. “I suppose I am stuck attending those now aren’t I?”

“Oh yes my lord!” Alistair declared, rubbing his hands together conspiratorially. “Hours upon hours of endless haggling over the most mundane of things like taxes and levies, countless banquets and balls in honour of some important person or another- and we get to enjoy it together now! Fortune favours fools for sure,” he smiled with glee. Cullen laughed and looked to Catlyn for support but was met with an equally smug, I-told-you-so grin. 

“I am overcome with joy at the thought, Your Majesty. Words cannot even describe,” he replied with a resigned smile.

“Excellent! I’ll let you be now my lord, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Oh, and Cullen,” Alistair added as he turned to go, “Rest assured that Rowback will be dealt with in an appropriate manner.”

Cullen’s smiled faded slightly. “Go easy on him, Alistair. He only believed what everyone was meant to and thought he was avenging his brother’s death. I can imagine feeling the same way in his shoes.”

Alistair nodded in understanding. “You’re a good man, Cullen. I’ll make sure that is taken into account.” With a slight bow, the king left and Cullen slumped back into his seat once more. Catlyn knelt by his side and took his hand gently in hers, stroking the inside of his calloused palm soothingly. She looked up at him with a curious grin that made Cullen a bit nervous.

“What are you plotting now, Inquisitor?” he murmured, knowing she was enjoying some private joke on his behalf. Her smirk grew as she looked into his eyes with one eyebrow raised.

“Am I going to have to start calling you ‘my lord’ now instead of Commander?” she wondered facetiously. 

“Do I call you Lady Trevelyan?” he countered with a smile.

She chuckled heartily in response. “Touché, Commander.” 

Cullen laughed and stared back at her adoringly. He knew she hadn’t agreed with his wish from the start and that if she had had it her way, someone else would have taken his place in the tournament to fight for his title. However, she recognized and respected his desire to do it himself and even though it came at a great risk she was willing to go along with it for his sake. He didn’t think it were possible to care for her more than he already did, but in that moment his heart nearly exploded under the weight of his feelings for her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin she had refused only a few days earlier and took her slender hand in his.

“I believe you promised to take this once I no longer had a need,” he murmured and pressed the coin in her palm. She looked down at her opened hand and smiled shyly before closing it tightly around the coin. Cullen wrapped his great hand over hers and squeezed it gently.

“It’s an honour to keep it safe for you, my lord,” she replied mockingly but with a genuine tenderness that made Cullen’s heart skip a beat. He smiled and leaned in to kiss her tenderly, taking his time in enjoying the taste of her lips and the spark that ignited between them every time they were close. She snaked her hand through his curls and pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss and earning a slight groan from deep within Cullen’s throat. 

They pulled apart reluctantly at the sound of a loud sniffle beside them. Josephine was wiping her eyes furiously with her fingers and sniffing back her emotions. “Oh, that’s just so _romantic _,” she gushed, unable to contain herself. Bull put a massive arm around her shoulders and produced a handkerchief from somewhere within his scant armour, which she accepted gratefully.__

“See Dorian, some people like romance,” Bull pointed out suggestively. Dorian snorted in response.

“If you think romance is propositioning a person after a heavy night of drinking with a one-liner like, “Hey baby, you know they don’t call me “The Iron Bull” for nothing’, then you have a very different concept of romance from the average individual.”

Bull managed to look somewhat hurt. “Hey, what’s more romantic than riding The Iron Bull under a starry sky?” he argued.

“Not doing it in the bushes behind a tavern, perhaps?” Dorian replied acidly. Cullen groaned, shook his head and sighed. Catlyn snickered beside him.

“Alright Commander, let me have a look at you,” Stitches announced as he returned with his hands full of supplies. Catlyn stood and made room for the healer and reluctantly relinquished his hand as the man knelt in her place and began setting up his implements. “You’ll have to take all of that off,” he instructed to Cullen as he motioned to his armour. Cullen nodded his head and began to fumble with the fastenings but the pain in his side made the motion more than uncomfortable.

“Allow me, Commander,” Catlyn offered, her voice a low murmur that somehow resonated deep within his groin. Only she could make tending to wounds appear forbidden and enticing all at the same time. Her nimble fingers made short work of his clasps, no doubt thanks to the countless nights he let her undress him in his quarters as they shared his bed. The images of their frequent escapades invaded his mind and he took a deep, steadying breath to calm his rapidly increasing heart rate.

“We can’t save this Cullen, but I promise to have a new one requisitioned that will be more fitting of a man of your title,” she joked as she tugged gently at his under-armour. He laughed and nodded his head in understanding and he felt her gently draw her dagger up the back of his shirt to split it down the middle, allowing him to shrug out of it far easier than he would have had to do otherwise. 

Dorian made a clucking sound and let out a forlorn sigh. “Truly some of the best specimens are wasted on the opposite sex,” he lamented as he gazed openly at Cullen’s bare chest.

“Hey,” Bull objected, somewhat offended by the Tevinter’s remark. “He’s not the only one around here to sport an impressive chest,” he complained.

“Yes but he keeps his covered up, which leaves far more to the imagination than some other people,” Dorian replied critically, staring pointedly at Bull’s bare chest with a raised eyebrow. Bull grunted and crossed his arms across his chest protectively, mumbling something about sharing the wealth.

“If you two are quite done bickering, some people are trying to concentrate here,” Catlyn quipped at them, earning an eye roll from Dorian and continued muttering from Bull. “Why don’t you wait for us at the tavern? We’ll be along once our Bann here is all stitched up,” she suggested, winking at Cullen. 

“We’ll make sure the party is in full swing by the time you’re ready to join us Commander,” Dorian agreed and strutted out of the room like a queen. 

“There is much to do in order to prepare for the celebrations. I’m not even sure if you can find a decent vintage in this town but I promise you I will find suitable libations worthy of such a victory! If you’ll excuse me Inquisitor, Commander,” Josephine bowed and quickly followed Dorian out. Bull mumbled something about dragging Sera out from the stands and made his way out as well, leaving Cullen alone with Catlyn and the Chargers’ healer. Stitches was assembling some bizarre concoction of herbs that even had Catlyn eyeing it suspiciously. 

“I just want to stress that this is not to be ingested, Commander,” Stitches said, emphasizing “not” heavily as he lifted the poultice to Cullen’s wound and held it firmly in place as he reached for his needle and thread.

Catlyn wrinkled her nose. “We may need to find a perfume of some kind for you, Cullen. If you’re going to carry that around with you throughout the night the party might end prematurely.”

Cullen snickered in response. “And that would be a bad thing, because…?” he replied questioningly. Catlyn laughed and gently stroked his cheek with her thumb.

“Because despite my many protests, I am both eternally proud of you and enormously relieved that you were successful today and I fully intend to celebrate your victory with as much zeal and extravagance as possible,” she answered with a smile and kissed him lingeringly before she stood to go. “You’re in good hands, so I will go and see what can be done about getting you suitable attire for the evening given that I’ve ruined your usual garb, and something to cover up that awful smell. Stitches, you have a remarkable talent but Maker, he smells like rotting darkspawn flesh now,” she admitted with an insolent grin.

Cullen was left chuckling in her wake as he let himself be mended by the healer. As he sat contemplating the day’s events, he allowed himself the satisfaction of enjoying his prize despite its cost. One split side and a fractured leg were a small price to pay for the happiness he felt.

***  
After being tended to by Stitches, Cullen returned to the inn where Catlyn met him with new clothing to replace the ones he had destroyed in battle. Josephine had organized a deliciously hot bath for him which unfortunately he could only partially enjoy given the patch on his side. Catlyn graciously offered to help administer his sponge bath and in the privacy of his room, she thoroughly scrubbed him before they proceeded to work up a new sweat on his bed. They both washed up again afterwards, Cullen enjoying the tenderness of their joint bathing and drawing it out as much as possible before they were expected to join the celebrations in his honour. 

Josephine’s hand in the organization of the event was obvious down to the tiniest details: his favourite foods had been prepared and the setup was relaxed and comfortable despite the presence of both Arl Teagan and King Alistair. Alistair himself seemed far more comfortable in and amongst the people, seated along long wooden benches and rough-hewn tables with minimal pageantry and opulence. The Ambassador had somehow managed to squeak in a few refined touches: the minstrels that played generally stuck to elegant tunes instead of the typical tavern songs and the half-melted candlesticks had been replaced with brand new long tapered beeswax candles that emitted a far sweeter fragrance. Judging by the look on her face, she was satisfied with how the evening unfolded and that in turn made Cullen smile. He knew those kinds of things were important to her and in this case he couldn’t argue with the pleasing effect it had.

With Catlyn tucked close to his side, he sat back and enjoyed listening to the stories exchanged by his many friends and companions that had traveled to support him. He felt blessed to be surrounded by such warmth and friendship and he thanked the Maker for allowing him a route to salvation even despite everything that had gone on in his past. He felt a pang knowing that a few key people were missing: he spent a lot of time teaching himself not to give in to the pain of missing his family but in times such as these, it was hard for it not to feel bittersweet. He knew he should make more of an effort to reach out to Mia and felt guilty not having done so this time, especially given that she lived in South Reach. Catlyn was leaving tomorrow for the Storm Coast with Bull and the Chargers and he wondered if perhaps he might have the chance to inquire as to Mia’s whereabouts and call on her. But would she welcome him? he wondered. Would she be hurt that he hadn’t bothered to let her know he would be here earlier and spurn any effort he made now to reach out? He had let his family down so many times before, he wasn’t sure he could handle doing it again. Maybe staying away was the best thing for everyone.

“Copper for your thoughts, Commander,” Catlyn murmured, leaning into him slightly. 

He looked at her with a small smile. “Just enjoying the evening, Inquisitor.”

“Go on Cullen, I know that look. You’re brooding about something. What is it?” she asked, never one to miss his tells. He chuckled softly.

“Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” he grinned and sighed. “I was just thinking about how I never wrote to Mia to say that I was coming. It would have been nice to see her but on the other hand I was too afraid of failing and having her witness that.”

“She’s your sister, Cullen. Judging by what she’s written you lately, I hardly see her being disappointed in you in any way, though I imagine she might be more than just a little put off by being ignored in her own town,” she chided him gently. Cullen dropped his head and sighed, resigned.

“I know,” he replied simply and mercifully Catlyn let the matter drop. After a moment, she nudged him and forced him to sit up.

“Alright my lord, let’s see if as Bann you are any better at Wicked Grace than you are as Commander,” she grinned, announcing the start of the game. Varric smiled mischievously from across the table and reached into a pocket to pull out a deck of cards just as Josephine let out a little squeal and clap of delight. Cullen shook his head and groaned.

“Maker, is there any way I can avoid this?” he complained.

“No,” Catlyn replied with a smile.

“Wicked Grace? Is that a kind of guessing game?” Alistair perked up from beside Catlyn. Catlyn let out a snort and Varric shook his head with a chuckle. 

“Your Majesty, haven’t you heard of Wicked Grace before?” Dorian’s surprised voice joined in from a little ways down the table.

Alistair shook his head. “We never played cards much on the road during the blight and the Chantry didn’t really condone much else besides reading and praying,” he laughed before rolling his eyes. “Anora’s not really much into games either so I don’t play. How does it work?”

Cullen looked over to see Dorian almost shivering with glee. “The world should be filled with more good-looking innocent ex-Templars!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together before pushing himself up from the table and moving towards them, stopping to squish himself between Alistair and Catlyn. “Now you see, Your Majesty, we all begin by putting an item of clothing in the centre of the table-“

“Dorian, what are you talking about?” Catlyn objected with a laugh.

“If you know what’s good for you, Inquisitor, you will kindly _shut up _,” Dorian hissed beside her. Cullen laughed and braced himself for yet another round of humiliation. Though by the looks of things, he may not be the one doing the walk of shame this time.__


	55. Where to Turn Your Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen needs to find someone to man the bann for him.  
> Also, it's decision day for Bull.

She could sense him approaching even before he was within range to deal a blow.

“I know you’re there Zev,” she said, not even breaking away from the pack she was adjusting on her mare. They were on the verge of leaving South Reach and Catlyn was doing the final check on her travel gear.

He chuckled and appeared by her side shaking his head. “You have not lost your touch, Kitten. I am happy to see that.”

Catlyn turned and smiled at him. “Hard to in my line of work. There’s always someone lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to slip up.”

“I confess, this has me worried, but I see the people you have surrounded yourself with and I am less afraid for your safety,” Zevran admitted with a look of concern. “But you are skilled and have always been able to take care of yourself. Gaspar always said you were destined for greatness. Did you know that?”

Catlyn’s face dropped slightly at the mention of her dearly departed mentor. Even after all this time, it was still a difficult subject for her to broach. “I was lucky he found me. He saved me from myself and his faith in me meant a lot.”

“He was a good man,” Zevran agreed and the pair fell into silence. After a pause, the assassin broached the issue she had been agonizing over since they reunited.

“Perhaps one day you will explain to me the connection between your grandmother’s death and your rise to power, yes?” Zevran asked. Her heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know. She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t have asked if he already knew the truth. Catlyn could only look at him regretfully, knowing that despite him not knowing, she didn’t trust anyone with the information besides her and Cullen.

“I won’t, Zev, but please don’t hate me for it,” she replied, her eyes downcast. “I love you like a brother but there are some things that are better left unsaid.”

She could feel Zevran’s eyes on her and when she looked up, he was staring at her with a mix of understanding and acceptance that made her love him even more than she already did. “I see it is a source of pain for you, _sorrelina _, so I will not push. I understand the need for secrets and have many of my own. You love me no less for them, and I no less for you.” He pulled her into a warm embrace and Catlyn could feel the last vestiges of her tension leaving her with every second they stood together. After a few minutes they pulled apart and Catlyn looked up at his familiar, comforting face and smiled.__

“You’ll stay in touch this time, right? I promise to do the same. If the king ever runs out of work for you, I’m sure Sister Leliana would have some jobs to throw your way.”

Zevran chuckled. “It would be my pleasure to work with Leliana again one day. Give her my regards and take care of yourself little cat. I hope to see you one day again soon.” Catlyn nodded and bid him farewell, watching him make his way over to the king’s retinue where he would be safe for the time being at least.

Catlyn turned to put the final touches on her travel pack when she saw Cullen approaching with a grim look on his face. Already she was reluctant to leave him in such a fragile state that it didn’t help to see him look so distraught. She stopped what she was doing and braced herself slightly against her mare’s side, patting her flank soothingly.

“What’s wrong Commander?” she asked as he reached her, his neck tense and jaw clenched. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.

“I’ve been speaking with Arl Teagan this morning,” he replied. “It appears that there are a number of issues regarding the bann that need attention. The seat has been vacant for some time now and the administration has been piling up with no one in charge to address it.”

Catlyn frowned. “Can’t it wait? They’ve waited this long to find a replacement, surely it can last another month or two?”

Cullen shook his head. “Unfortunately it can’t. A lot has to do with the harvest they are taking in and that kind of thing can’t wait or else its value drops. I wouldn’t want that for the people.”

Catlyn smiled. “Already a day in your new position and you’re focussed on your people. Like Commander, like Bann, I suppose.” She was rewarded with a short laugh and lopsided grin before his face quickly clouded over again.

“I really should have thought this through better,” he admitted. “I can’t keep up with the Inquisition and run a bann. I need a twin, or at the very least someone I can trust with this.” Catlyn nodded sympathetically but was distracted by a woman glaring at Cullen and storming towards them like a thundercloud. She had a mane of golden curls that were bouncing on her shoulders like springs and she had the same furrowed brow that Cullen got whenever he was reigning in his temper. Her face split into a broad grin and she fought back a laugh. 

“Would you settle for a sister?” she asked, cocking her head and motioning over his shoulder. Cullen’s face blanched and he spun around just in time to brace himself against the shove Mia Rutherford gave her little brother.

“You stupid fool!” she hollered at him, pushing him back once more and sending him stumbling back a few paces. Cullen threw his hands up in defence, hoping to protect what little dignity he had left from his sister’s onslaught. “You would actually come to the town where I live and not let me know ahead of time? To participate in a tournament in which you’ve been crowned Bann of Chalon and I had to find out from some market vendor this morning? Is that the way you treat your sister after all these years?” she cried, her voice raising several decibels by the end of her rant. 

“Mia please,” Cullen begged, gently reaching out for her in supplication as he glanced around them warily. “I can explain.”

“Explain,” she snorted. “What more is there to explain, Cullen? I’ve hit you over the head with the concept of writing a letter I don’t know how many times and still it has yet to cross through that thick skull of yours. I’m not sure what else there is that needs explaining,” she retorted hotly.

“Mia, I was going to try and find you today,” he pleaded, his face lined with sincerity and regret. “It all happened relatively quickly and I wasn’t even sure if a letter would get to you in time. And… I didn’t want you to watch if things went poorly,” he admitted, his voice dropping barely above a whisper as he cowered under the heated glare of his sister. Catlyn watched as the scowl on her face softened ever so slightly.

“You’re stubborn, you know that right? Always have been,” she huffed. “And now you’re bloody nobility too. Maker preserve us,” she rolled her eyes.

“Actually, Mia, it’s really wonderful that you’re here right now because I have an offer for you,” Cullen started hopefully, his amber eyes wide and pleading.

“You couldn’t even tell me you were coming and now you are asking me for a favour?” she replied, one eyebrow raised and her hands firmly planted on her hips. “You have some nerve, little brother.”

Cullen winced and Catlyn chuckled at his discomfort. “I don’t think I would have led with that one, Commander,” she joked. Mia’s face turned towards her as she appeared to register her presence for the first time since the exchange began. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she sized her up and when her gaze dropped to her green palm, she gasped and took a step back.

“Maker’s breath, you’re the Inquisitor!” she exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest in surprise before she shot another glare at her brother. “You let me carry on like a crazed fool in front of the _Inquisitor _?” she hissed at him. Poor Cullen, Catlyn chuckled to herself. The man can’t win today.__

“Don’t worry about it,” Catlyn replied. “It’s nice to see someone else give him a hard time for a change,” she added with a grin. Cullen’s sister’s lips quirked up in a knowing smile. 

“Happy to hear that someone else has taken up the reins of keeping his ego in check,” Mia replied. 

Cullen grunted and crossed his arms across his chest. “I’m right here, you know,” he grumbled. Mia shot him another baleful glare and he huffed but remained quiet.

“A lot of this has to do with me, Ms Rutherford,” Catlyn began, trying to smooth things over a bit for Cullen who only really deserved a portion of her scorn. “We keep him fairly busy and you know how your brother can dedicate himself completely to a cause, often at the expense of his own personal life. In his defence, he was actually planning on seeking you out today, it being his first opportunity to. I am leaving for the Storm Coast, which means a bit more free time for our Commander,” she grinned. 

Mia looked at the two of them thoughtfully. “Well to be fair, I probably wouldn’t have received a letter in time anyways. Our youngest sister, Rosaline, just gave birth and I was with her the past few weeks in Lothering taking care of her. Her husband’s a treasure but Andraste guide him, he’s useless when it comes to women’s needs,” she laughed. 

“Ros has a baby?” Cullen breathed. “Little Ros? She’s a mother?”

“She’s not that little anymore Cullen,” Mia chided him. “A woman grown now. Healthy baby boy. Everything went well and she’s in good hands now.” Cullen merely stared at her with a mixed look on his face.

“I’ve missed so much,” he breathed, a forlorn look on his face.

“Yes you have, but while a lot of that is your own doing much of it isn’t and it isn’t too late to make it right,” she consoled him kindly. Catlyn was touched at how understanding Cullen’s sister was and thankful that he had a good family behind him for support, even if he was too prideful to lean on them at all.

Time, however, was of the essence, and Catlyn knew they had to be on their way to the Storm Coast quickly so she decided to push things along a little bit to help. She didn’t want to leave Cullen on bad terms.

“It’s true, a lot of what’s gone on isn’t at all his doing, per se. I’ve given him his fair share of work and the recent acquisition of his title puts him in a rather unfortunate circumstance, I have to admit,” Catlyn explained. “Forgive us both if we seem abrupt but in our line of work, you never know what second could be your last. If you could at least give his offer some serious thought, I would forever be in your debt,” Catlyn pleaded, trying her best not to seem too desperate.

Mia gave them both a suspicious look. “What exactly is this offer?”

“Mia, the bann needs someone full time to tend to its affairs and I just can’t do that right now,” Cullen explained carefully. “Once things with the Inquisition are less hectic I will be able to dedicate more time to it but right now, I can’t afford to have my attention divided- but I don’t know who else to turn to. I need someone to run matters for me in my absence. I would really appreciate it if that person would be you.” Catlyn could see Cullen hold his breath as he waited with great anticipation for his sister’s reaction. She watched as Mia’s eyes widened and narrowed, then settled into an incredulous look in a matter of seconds.

“Cullen, even if I wanted to, what do I know about running a bann?” she breathed sounding a little helpless. “I have a family to take care of and a household to run. I’m a seamstress, Cullen, not nobility!”

Cullen looked at her tenderly and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder with a little squeeze. “Mia, running a bann is a lot like running a family: everyone has their role to play but it’s the mother who is really in charge. Like it or not, you’ve kept ours in line ever since mother and father passed and probably before, if we’re being honest. You render judgment on the children daily in their shenanigans and make sure everything and everyone is fed, clothed, bathed, and on time to where they need to be. You will be amazing at this, I know it. You may even refuse to give it up once I’m able to take on the role the way I should,” he teased.

“We will have Inquisition resources at your disposal for anything you should need,” Catlyn added. “You need only write to the Nightingale or Ambassador and they will provide you with the help and guidance you seek.”

Mia stared at them helplessly and Catlyn hoped she was as wonderful as Cullen always told her she was. Luckily, he wasn’t wrong. 

“Maker Cullen, you know I would do anything for you, you know that right?” she threw up her hands in resignation. “But I’m warning you, if you do something stupid again or play the heroic commander and get yourself killed in battle, I will hunt down your rotting corpse and drag you out of the Fade only to stick you right back there one more time,” she threatened with a wagging finger.

Cullen glanced briefly at Catlyn and tried to force a smile. She knew he hadn’t mentioned the lyrium withdrawal to his sister and the situation he was in, but felt that now wasn’t the time to divulge that little tidbit to her. 

“I will do everything in my power to stay alive,” he swore to her and pulled her into a hug. “Thank you Mia, this means the world to me,” he murmured in her hair.

“Oh stop you big sap,” she sniffed and pulled her arm away to give his shoulder a punch. Cullen feigned injury and the pair laughed wholeheartedly having finally been reunited after so many years. Catlyn watched as her heart swelled a bit at Cullen’s happiness.

Mia pulled away and looked up at her brother, wiping her eyes as she did. “Are you leaving now? Do you have time to at least explain a bit more about what I’ve just gotten myself into? I’ll need to speak to Thomas about this as well, Maker he’ll have kittens,” she shook her head.

“I have to get back to Skyhold but I’m sure everything could wait at least another day,” he replied. “Might even give me the chance to meet my nephew and nieces.”

Mia smiled and her whole face lit up. “Cullen, there isn’t anything they would like more than to meet their knight in shining armour, Uncle Cullen the Templar,” she grinned then turned to Catlyn. “I suppose you aren’t able to stay, Inquisitor?” she asked with a raised eyebrow and knowing grin. Catlyn knew Cullen had been writing his sister recently but wasn’t sure how much he had told her about them. In that moment she realized he had at least mentioned something that had his sister’s eyebrows wagging.

“There is nothing I would enjoy more than to meet my Commander’s family, but unfortunately I have urgent business to tend to on the Storm Coast and I’ve already put it off one too many time,” she replied, genuinely disappointed that she would miss the opportunity. On the other hand, allowing Cullen the chance to reunite with his family in private wouldn’t be such a bad thing either. She appreciated having the chance to see her mother in relative peace once she had arrived at Skyhold.

“I understand, Inquisitor. Perhaps another time then,” Mia replied graciously.

“Please, call me Catlyn,” she smiled warmly at the woman who returned her grin as brightly.

“So Cullen, shall we go or do you need to do anything else? Any commands you need to give,” Mia teased, rolling her eyes in mock jest.

Cullen looked at Catlyn reluctantly. “You’re on your way now, I assume?” 

Catlyn nodded solemnly and looked over where her companions had gathered. “Everyone is waiting.”

Cullen looked over at her friends then back at her with a sigh. “Be careful. Watch out for the Qunari, I don’t trust them. I saw what they did in Kirkwall and they’ll stop at nothing to further their cause.” They stood staring at each other, letting all the unspoken words pass between them knowing that all eyes would be on the pair.

“Goodness, it’s suddenly a hundred degrees out here,” Mia muttered with a smile, fanning herself with a hand. Cullen glared at her the way any little brother would and Catlyn just laughed.

“Go gently on him please,” Catlyn said and Mia grinned in return. Casting one last heartfelt look at Cullen, Catlyn mounted her horse and trotted off through the town with Bull, his Chargers, Dorian and Varric close on her tail. She hated saying goodbye to him, even more so when it was in public and they had to keep their relationship as platonic as possible for their own privacy’s sake. More so this time she hoped that his condition would remain stable at least until her return. She had no desire to have him deteriorate while she couldn’t be there to help. Saying a little prayer, she urged her horse into a gallop and rode off towards the Storm Coast, eager to get the mission over with and make her way back to Skyhold as quickly as she could.

***  
Their assumed victory turned to ashes in their mouth as they watched the Venatori force stalk towards the cliff side where the Chargers stood.

“The Chargers can’t stand against that kind of force,” Catlyn whispered in horror as she watched the scene unfold.

“No, they can’t,” Bull answered simply. She glanced over at him and saw a flicker of pain flash over his face.

“They still have time to fall back,” she pointed out. They could still be saved, though even she knew at what cost.

“If you do that Hissrad, everything will be lost. You’ll be no better than the Tal Vashoth I swore to our superiors you hadn’t become,” Gatt pleaded to him.

“They’re my boys,” he growled through clenched teeth. Catlyn could see how distraught he was, how torn he felt between allegiance to his people and care for his men. Though she couldn’t claim to fully understand the Qunari, what little she knew didn’t sound at all appealing to her and she struggled to understand how someone could feel such dedication towards them. Watching Bull made it evident that there had to be more to it than her simple knowledge of their society.

“Think of what you would be throwing away Hissrad! It’s not worth it!” Gatt cried. Catlyn shot him a baleful glare, indicating that he had better hold his tongue before she took it from him. To her there was really only one choice: save the Chargers. No alliance was worth the lives of the good men that stood on the cliff opposite them. Though she had been trained by one of the best assassins and knew that when it came to work, your personal life mattered less than dirt; but she wasn’t an assassin now and she knew that despite his quiet devotion to the Qun, even he would have a hard time paying the price needed to continue his allegiance to the society.

“Call them off, Bull. It’s not worth it. The Inquisition doesn’t need this alliance,” she commanded calmly yet firmly. Bull looked over at her and she could see him hesitate for a second before he blew the horn alerting the Chargers of the need to withdraw.

“I stood up for you, Hissrad!” Gatt shouted at him. “What are you now that you’ve thrown it all away? Thrown it all away for some pack of degenerates you call a company?”

“He is The Iron Fucking Bull,” Catlyn ground out, “and he is the Mercenary Captain of the Inquisition. If you can’t accept that- if your people can’t accept that- then there is nothing left here for us.” Gatt glared at her then turned and stalked off towards his camp. Everyone was silent after he left, afraid of making the first move. Catlyn watched Bull stare off into the distance as the flames from the burning dreadnought dissipated into the water with an audible hiss.

“We should get back to camp,” she murmured and Bull merely nodded his head. She waited a second then asked, “Are you alright Bull?”

He didn’t respond right away but continued gazing off into the horizon. Finally he turned and with a small smile mumbled, “Yeah Boss, I’m good. Let’s get out of here and get my boys.” 

The rest of their voyage was oddly quiet. Bull put on a face for the Chargers but only enough to stave off any concerned questions. Catlyn knew better, as did Varric and Dorian, but no one was sure of what to do.

“Someone should talk to him. Let him know that he did the right thing, that he’s still a good man. I don’t know, something,” Catlyn sighed one evening as she sat around the small cook fire they had built while on the way home. Bull was sitting with his Chargers but still oddly quiet. His loud rumbling laugh was absent from the air and the lack of lewd jokes and jibes Dorian’s way had everyone a little on edge.

“He needs something, that’s for sure,” Varric agreed. “Sparkler, why don’t you try talking to him?”

Dorian scoffed and made a noise of protest. “Me? What could I possibly say to the big brute that would make anything better?”

“Come on Sparkler, we all know there’s more to the two of you than you let on. Don’t know why you try and deny it,” Varric pointed out. “Actually, you two have a lot more in common now, both being social outcasts from your respective societies. Maybe you could start your own support group for castaways,” he chuckled.

Dorian glared heatedly at the dwarf. “I am not a social outcast,” Dorian replied haughtily. “Outcast would reply that I am no longer wanted by the society but you’ll recall that I chose to leave. I am a member of House Pavus, an altus mage, and mages all over Tevinter would scramble at the chance to gain my favour,” he declared, clearly prickled by the accusation of being unwanted.

“You’ve admitted yourself that you don’t fit in with your people, Dorian. Whether it’s by choice or not is beside the point. In fact, Bull blew the horn- he made a choice too,” Catlyn pointed out. “There must be something you can say,” she pleaded quietly, making sure to keep her voice down so as to not be overheard by the others stationed around them around fires.

Dorian grunted and stared at Bull who had gotten up and walked a slight ways off to the edge of camp, standing seemingly lost in thought as he stared off across the horizon. “Alright,” he acquiesced, standing and brushing off his robes. He squared his shoulders and muttered, “Here goes nothing,” and strode off towards Bull. Catlyn and Varric sat watching the pair like hawks, never once letting their gaze break. 

As Dorian approached the big man, Bull folded his arms across his chest and said something to him, the specifics of which neither Catlyn nor Varric could hear. Dorian replied and they had a brief exchange before the mage threw his hands up in frustration and turned to stalk away. Both Catlyn and Varric motioned for him to stop and turn around to try again, urging him with hand gestures and a soft “Go on!” murmured quickly. Dorian made a rude gesture and despite the distance Catlyn could see him roll his eyes from where she sat, but he turned around nonetheless. Whatever he said had the desired effect as the pair watched as Bull’s shoulders bow slightly and his arms dropped to his sides. Dorian gestured for them to take a walk and soon they were shrouded in the dark of the night, preventing any further eavesdropping from occurring.

“Well that went well,” Varric said with a chuckle. Catlyn nodded and grinned, satisfied that the couple might finally have the chance to ignite the smoldering embers glowing just beneath the surface.

The next morning Catlyn woke up and exited her tent, stretching out casually and letting out a big yawn. Bull and Varric were already up and sitting around the campfire chewing on some rations. They smiled and Varric handed her a warm cup of tea, just the way she liked. She smiled and thanked him, then sat down at his side. She looked over at Bull who returned the glance with a lopsided grin. Good sign, she thought to herself.

Just then Dorian exited his own tent, looking slightly disheveled which was unlike the mage. He was always impeccably coiffed, no matter the time of day. Catlyn always found that a particularly remarkable trait of his. She usually felt like a bronto’s ass in the morning and looked quite the same, which made her slightly jealous of the handsome Tevinter. 

Dorian’s eyes met Bull’s and he quickly looked away with a blush. He muttered hello to Catlyn and Varric and made his way past them towards the cook fire. As he passed, Bull leaned around and gave him a swift slap on the behind, sending Dorian flying up with a yelp followed by a string of muttered curses in Tevene as he rubbed his backside and continued on his way. Bull’s grin was face-splitting face but he said nothing, while Varric chuckled and Catlyn sputtered out her tea, clutching her sides in laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments so far? We're heading into the home stretch (kind of) and I'd love to know if it's headed where you would expect.


	56. In Faith We Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finally hits rock bottom. Luckily, an unsuspecting visitor helps guide him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one for a wee while- going camping!

It felt like a hundred degrees in the room. Hot enough to melt iron. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat and his breath came in short pants most of the time. But why then was he shivering like he was freezing to death?

Cullen was lying in a bed they had set up for him in the undercroft, his torso bare and a sheet loosely covering him. He hovered somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, often slipping into a dreamy daze, his thoughts flitting from one thing to the next. At times he dreamt of his young nephew, Mia’s first born, and how he so resembled Cullen at that age with the same golden curls and honey brown eyes full of promise and innocence. His heart filled with joy at the brief reunion he had shared with his family in South Reach before he returned to Skyhold. He deeply regretted pushing them away for so long and the day he spent in their company was enough to both fill and empty him of joy, leaving him a conflicted mess of emotions. He was thankful for the time they were able to share together and anguished at how little they may yet have.

Sometimes he dreamt of Catlyn, the way she smelled, the way she felt as they tumbled in a mess of twisted limbs and heat between the sheets. Her breath on his skin sent shivers down his spine and his body ached with need of her. She was his comfort in a world of pain and suffering and he longed to be with her once more.

More often though he had terrible visions of the past, present and future, all in various states of chaos and destruction, all because of him. Isidora dead, because of him. Catlyn lying in a pool of her own blood, slain by distorted remnants of Templars. His family tortured and murdered by Samson as he carried out his master’s will. He awoke from those nightmares trembling even harder than before, crying out in agony as he lay helplessly on the bed.

He swallowed hard, his throat a parched wasteland that cracked in protest of its function. He was thirsty, always thirsty, but water seemed not to provide the quench he needed. Visions of blue swirled before him, a hazy taunting mist of lyrium that called out to him as his body screamed its plea. Instead he felt the delicate moisture of a cool cloth pressed to his brown and a gentle hand turning his head and tilting it up to receive a mouthful of water. He gulped it down hungrily and let his head fall back onto the pillow as he focussed in on the person beside him.

“It won’t be much longer now Commander,” a soothing voice whispered to him. “Catlyn will be here soon.” He smiled at her name, a sad twist to his lips that wanted to feel happiness but was drowning in despair.

“I… just… I just want to see her. One last time,” his voice was hoarse and gravelly as he spoke as if he were dragging it across burning coals along the ground. 

Professor Damerell smiled back at him warmly as she wiped his brow. “If our little arcanist is half as clever as I think she is, it won’t be for the last time,” she replied encouragingly.

“Do you really believe that, Professor?” he asked before a cough ripped through his lungs and stole the breath from within. He winced as it subsided, leaving hot tingles in his chest.

“I have faith, Commander. Not just in the Maker, for what it is worth, but in peoples’ abilities to come together and achieve greatness. If I didn’t believe it to be true, I wouldn’t say it.” She seemed truthful in her statement but Cullen had been disappointed too many times in his life to allow himself any modicum of hope.

He turned his head and looked back up to the ceiling, staring at the blackness of the cave surrounding him. It felt oppressive, like the darkness wanted to move in on him and push him down deeper into the Void and he barely had the energy to push back anymore. It would be so easy just to let it go, succumb to the endless night and hopefully find peace somewhere on the other side.

A sudden crack shook him back from the edge and he turned his head slightly to see Catlyn’s figure standing in the doorway. She looked fierce and frightened, like if she could she would reach into his body herself and rip out any last vestiges of lyrium that plagued him and kill them herself. He was relieved to see her and relaxed ever so slightly, though he tried not to fall back into unconsciousness now that she was here.

She made her way down the stairs and to his bedside, kneeling on the ground and looking over him like she was looking at some abomination. Her hands hovered over his body, unsure whether to touch him or back away for fear he would crumble beneath her.

She turned and looked at her mother. “How?” her voice cracked. “When? When did this happen? He didn’t look so bad leaving South Reach but now, Maker,” she cursed and trailed off, her eyes coming back to meet his. “Cullen, I’m so sorry, I came as fast as I could. Had I have known it had gotten this bad I would have come sooner.”

“Hush Catlyn, don’t berate yourself over this,” her mother consoled her. “The deterioration was quick and there really isn’t anything you could have done to slow it or make it any better.”

She continued to stare at him with wide eyes filled with pain and sadness that tore at Cullen’s heart. “What can I do?” she whispered to him, taking his hand in hers.

He squeezed them gently and managed a small smile. “You’re here, that’s all that matters.”

They remained locked in a gaze for what seemed like an eternity before she turned to look back at her mother. “What do we do? Can you help him?” Her question was more a plea, a desperate ask to save the man lying before her.

Her mother nodded her head. “We’ve come as far as we can, Catlyn. There are no guarantees but at this point if we do nothing, he will die.”

Cullen’s heart skipped a beat at that. He always knew it would come to this, but hearing it said by someone out loud like that gave it a reality it always lacked in his mind. Catlyn stared at him, a look of anguish marring her beautiful features, and gently stroked his brow. He saw her eyes flash with resolve and she straightened. 

“Do what you need to then.” Her mother nodded and turned to speak in hushed whispers to Dagna and Fiona who were standing off to the side respectfully. He noticed that Dorian had also joined them and made his way over to their side. Catlyn remained by his side, holding his hand like it was a life force keeping her alive.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Commander,” she said, her eyes steely despite the slightly tremble in her voice. 

He chuckled softly and fought back another cough. “As you wish, Inquisitor.” Her lips hinted at a smile and she dropped her head slightly with a sigh. “Catlyn, please, everything will be alright. Regardless of what happens here you will go on. You will defeat Corypheus, you’ll end the war, and people will shower you with so much happiness you will never remember what it’s like to feel sad.”

A tear trickled down her cheek and she brushed it away angrily. “Don’t talk as if you won’t be there to see it. You will lead my forces into the Arbor Wilds and you will be there to celebrate our victory over that hateful son of a bitch darkspawn lunatic. I won’t have it any other way,” she commanded, bossy even in the direst of straits.

“But if I-”

“No buts, Cullen!” her face shot up and glared at him warningly. “There are no buts. My mother has faith in this and so do I. You have to as well. You need to want this to work. You have to come back to me, you just have to,” she begged, tears falling freely now. He shushed her and wiped them away with a trembling thumb. He wanted to comfort her, to be strong like she needed, but the words caught in his mouth and all he could do was hold her face in his palm and promise himself he would never forget the way she felt for as long as his soul drew breath.

“Inquisitor, if I may?” Dagna hesitantly indicated to the runes she held in her hands. Catlyn sniffed and nodded at her, casting one last look at Cullen before she stood up and made her way to her mother’s side. Her mother wrapped a slender arm around her shoulders and Catlyn leaned into her for support, while Dorian snaked an arm around her waist from the other side and leaned in to whisper some gentle platitudes in her ear. Cullen desperately wished he could reach up and hold her, pull her into a tight embrace and feel her lips pressed onto his hungrily, but it took every effort just to open his mouth let alone stand up, so instead he watched as the deep pit of sadness swallowed him up from beneath.

Dagna made her way around Cullen and delicately pulled back the blanket revealing his loosely clad bottom before she placed several runes on various points of his body. The last she placed on his forehead before she stepped back and nodded towards the Professor, who in turn motioned towards Fiona. The mage walked over to Cullen and produced a small vial from her robes, uncorking it with a pop.

“What is that?” he heard Catlyn ask anxiously.

“It would be best if the Commander were not awake for the procedure, Your Worship,” the grand enchanter replied. “This will help him sleep while we perform the work.”

“Why can’t he be awake? How will we know if it’s working?” she replied, her voice raised in fear. Her mother or Dorian must have given her some kind of reassurance for when the mage spoke again, she didn’t protest.

“It won’t hurt, Inquisitor. It’s just simpler this way.” She turned back to Cullen and tipped the vial against his lips, allowing him to part them slightly and allow the cool liquid slide down his throat. Within seconds he felt groggy and his lids became heavy, and the last thing he remembered seeing was a flash of light before everything went dark.

***

When he awoke, he felt refreshed and lighter than he had in years. The familiar ache in the back of his skull was gone and his limbs were limber and strong. He sat up and looked around, finding himself at the edge of the familiar lake near Honnleath where he used to escape to when he was younger. He smiled at the surroundings, laughing when a frog leapt past him towards the marsh. It was a warm sunny day and the heady scent of blades of grass and wet, marshy lands filled his senses in pleasurable satisfaction. He felt no pain, only a deep calmness that filled him with serenity like he had never known.

He looked around and saw Isidora seated beside him a few paces away, her long legs stretched out in front of her hidden under the folds of her robes as she leaned back on her elbows. She fixed him with a cheeky grin but said nothing, her green eyes the same shade of emerald as the grass they lay on giving freshness to her that made his heart swell. Her long blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight and her creamy pale skin was as milky as it had been the first day he met her at Kinloch.

Kinloch. The memories came flooding back instantly and Cullen shook his head in realization. This couldn’t be Izzy, the same woman he had fallen in love with over a decade ago; the same woman he agonized for after the horrors he witnessed locked up in the tower of the circle. Was it a demon? he wondered. No, he decided, it couldn’t be. Usually those were nightmares and they never felt as peaceful as he did right now. As he considered the options, she gave him a quizzical look from where she sat.

“What’s wrong, Cullen? You’re unhappy, what happened?” Her voice had the same familiar lightness to it that it had years ago, melodic like she were singing with every breath she took. The details were so perfect, unlike what most demons brought him. He always knew they were hiding the truth on account of all the details they missed, but either this was one more powerful than the rest…

Or he was dead.

“Maker Izzy, you’re dead,” he breathed and the woman’s face fell slightly. “If I’m here, then that must mean…”

“That you’re dead too?” she offered with raised eyebrows. She shook her head quickly and said, “Not exactly Cullen. Life still breathes in your body.”

He looked around him again and noticed that all of a sudden, everything seemed a bit more penned in, like the walls of illusion around him inched forward and leaned inwards like a protective cocoon. “But I am in the Fade?”

The woman nodded once more. “You are peaceful here. Do you like it?”

Cullen considered her question for a moment. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted, struggling to piece together just exactly it was that he was feeling. “I feel no pain, which I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a welcome respite for certain. But everything else…” he trailed off and looked around himself again. Everything was a bit fuzzier and out of focus than it had been, but the same calm serenity remained within in and he struggled to deny he liked it.

“Is this some sort of test? A trick, perhaps?” he asked. “Why are you here? Why are you in this form?”

The woman looked at him questioningly and her form shimmered for a moment and when it cleared, Catlyn was seated across from him. “Is this better?” she asked hopefully, sending Cullen’s heart lurching out of his chest. She wore her hair down in waves, just as he remembered from when she stepped out of the Fade at Adamant, but in place of blood-stained armour she wore a simple tunic of soft-spun wool and leggings that accentuated her lithe, shapely limbs. His heart raced painfully as he beheld her perfection.

He swallowed deeply and replied, his voice hoarse, “No, please. It’s too much.” He didn’t know what was going on, why he was here, but he knew it wasn’t real and everything felt like a taunt, teasing him with everything he would never have but wanted so desperately.

The woman’s face fell and she quickly shimmered once more and regained the form of Isidora. “I’m sorry, I only wanted to help. I’ve always felt your pain, never known what to do, but I know she wouldn’t want that for you and now, with all your pain gone, I thought I would help make it right again.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes and considered her words. “You’re a spirit, aren’t you? Like Cole? What do you mean, you’ve always felt my pain? Have you always known me?”

The spirit nodded carefully. “Your heart has hurt for a long time, your body more so as of late. I came across the young mage you cared for when she passed through the Fade and helped her find her way when she became lost. She was afraid for you, could feel your pain as well, and her voice was very loud in my head. I know you cared for her for some time and it hurt you to think of how she died, how you could have saved her. You blamed yourself for her death, but you must know she never blamed you.”

Cullen sat frozen listening to Isidora- no, the _spirit _, as it had already stated that Isidora passed through the Fade and was no longer here- but it seemed all too nonsensical for him. That is, until she had spoken the last words.__

“She never blamed me?” he asked, his voice quavering as he fought back the repressed emotions he had kept bottled up for so long. “Are you sure? How could she not? She was right there in front of me, begging for my help. All I had to do was slay the demon that held her and yet- and yet,” he stammered, the words catching on his tongue like a burning admission he just couldn’t bring himself to voice.

The spirit looked at him with a mix of pity and empathy. “She was haunted by the demons as well and knew what they must have done to you. She was only sorry she couldn’t have made you see sooner that she wasn’t an illusion. But no, she doesn’t blame you for that. She wanted desperately for you to know that so she lingered, hoping for the chance to let you know but soon your dreams were always nightmares and she could never fight off the demons that plagued you enough to make you see the light. Then, after a time, you began to dream again- peacefully this time, and often they were filled with thoughts of someone new. At first she was sad, but then she realized that it meant you were slowly forgiving yourself and allowing your heart to open up again. That’s all she ever really wanted for you. She knew you had a beautiful heart and she didn’t want it to be poisoned by what you had lived through. She believes in you, Cullen. She knows you have the strength to make a difference, to save the world. She wishes you believed in yourself too.”

Cullen’s mind swirled and he rubbed his eyes in a vain attempt to process everything the spirit was throwing at him. Could it really be true? Could he believe the spirit before him? He knew Catlyn had experienced something similar at Adamant when she fell into the Fade and encountered Justinia, or perhaps a spirit that embodied her. Was this the same thing?

“But if you’re not her, where is she now? How do I know what you’re saying is true?”

“After a time, she saw you had found peace in someone new. This allowed her to move on and she passed through, no longer walking the Fade. She has found her peace now as well. Maybe it is time you find the same?”

Cullen looked around him. “But how do I do that? Am I not dead as well?”

“No, you’re not dead. You know this. You need to have faith, be strong, and believe,” the spirit replied simply.

“But how?” he pleaded, looking around desperately. “Where do I go? What do I do? How do I get out?” His heart beat faster as he frantically looked for an exit, a door, a portal- something that would lead the way back to his body. For the first time since the blight, he was willing to find peace and let himself be free of the guilt he carried buried in his heart for so long. Now he wanted nothing more than to get back to reality and find Catlyn and throw himself at her feet, thankful that she came into his life and helped guide him back to the light that had extinguished for him so many years ago. But he was trapped in the Fade and hadn’t the faintest idea of what to do.

The spirit smiled and got up, walking towards him in three long strides. As it did, her image morphed once more into Catlyn’s face, her brown eyes boring through him and into his soul. She held his shoulders firmly and whispered, “Wake up.”


	57. Fear of Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn watches as Cullen undergoes the procedure.

Catlyn felt like she was watching a carriage wreck: one of those things that was too horrific to watch, but impossible to tear your eyes from. Cullen lay peacefully on the bed after having taken the vial from Fiona, almost as if he were in a deep sleep. In part he was for the potion was meant to make him drowsy and numb any pain he may feel from the procedure; but there were subtleties to it that Catlyn didn’t completely understand nor did she want to know more about. All she wanted was for this to go well and for him to be returned to her in one whole piece.

Fiona looked at her mother who gave Catlyn’s hand a small squeeze. She was so thankful to have her here for this. If it weren’t for her, Cullen may well be on death’s doorstep. At least now he had a fighting chance at overcoming the devastating effects of the lyrium withdrawal.

Her mother nodded and Fiona turned back to face Cullen, raising her arms outstretched towards him. She whispered an incantation the words of which Catlyn could barely make out but didn’t understand, and slowly a blue light enveloped the sleeping commander in a soft cocoon, glowing brighter and stronger with every second until Catlyn could barely look at him any longer. In a sudden flash of light, the blue aura dissipated and Catlyn looked back to see Cullen trembling and writhing on the bed, his entire body seemingly wracked in convulsions. The room was filled with a dull roar, like air being sucked out from below the tide on the shores of the Storm Coast.

“Hot holy Andraste, what is happening?” Catlyn cried out and gripped her mother’s hand tighter just as Dorian’s own hold strengthened around her. The runes placed over his body were glowing and thin tendrils of blue light were streaking through Cullen’s skin, visible on his bare chest. Flashes of everything terrible that could go wrong passed through her vision and if it weren’t for Dorian’s hold on her, she would have flung herself upon the trembling man in a vain attempt to do something, anything, to make the symptoms stop. She could hear Cullen’s moans over the roar and her heart constricted: he was in pain, couldn’t anyone see that? Why weren’t they doing anything?

“Make it stop!” she yelled desperately. “It’s too much, he’s too weak, he’ll never withstand this!”

“Hush my lamb, it is a part of the process,” her mother’s soothed her, rubbing her hand gently over the arm she was holding onto. “The lyrium is fighting back but it needs to be expunged from his system completely otherwise he will never be free from its claws. Fiona has this in hand, it will be ok.”

As if on cue, Fiona raised her hands once more and Cullen was bathed in a deep emerald green light that seemed to calm the tremors and erase any vestiges of the blue that was left. Fiona circled her hands quickly and the light stopped, as did everything else. Cullen’s body lay on the bed unmoving, his voice silent and the room quiet as the night.

Catlyn held her breath and waited for something to happen. No one moved. Instead, they all stood in hushed silence, staring at his unmoving body before them, daring not to breathe, as the seconds dragged on into minutes.

“Is he..?” she croaked, afraid of finishing the sentence. The grave looks on the grand enchanter, arcanist and her mother’s faces didn’t fill her with much confidence. Fiona took a hesitant step towards the man and gently picked up his wrist, looking for a pulse. Her brow furrowed and she bent closer, watching his chest and glancing worriedly at his face. Catlyn’s heart hammered so hard and fast she was sure the others would mistake it for an avalanche rumbling off in the Frostbacks. Fiona fumbled around his body in search of other vital signs.

“I’m sorry Your Worship, I can’t seem to find-”

“No!” Catlyn’s choked voice cut her off. “No, no no no no no, you said it was safe, you said it would be ok,” her words spilled over each other as jumbled as the bouncing thoughts in her head. She looked at her mother whose pained look answered everything she still wanted to deny. “He was supposed to survive this!”

“There were risks, Catlyn, he knew this, we all did,” her mother started sadly and reached out to pull her into am embrace but Catlyn shook both her and Dorian off with a feral growl.

“No!” she shouted at her, though deep down she knew it was the truth. They all knew the told and untold risks behind the procedure but knowing that his inevitable decline was no better, they were all willing to take it. Despite that, Catlyn had so much faith in her mother- in Cullen himself- that she never really truly believed it could come to this. Her heart ached as it was torn asunder staring at the man she loved lying motionless in front of her. She stormed past Fiona, shoving her unceremoniously out of the way, and fell down to her knees beside him.

“You stubborn man, you have come this far don’t you dare back down on me now,” she growled at him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it within her own, willing his life to flow back into it. “Maker be damned, I won’t let them take you yet. It’s not your time, there is still so much left to do, so much left to do together. Blast it all Cullen, this is not your end!” she yelled at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. She dropped her head between her arms and took a deep and shaky breath in. The pain she felt at his loss was unlike anything she had felt before. She had been shaken by fear many times, felt loss and grief as a result, but nothing seemed quite as gut-wrenching as the loss of her soul mate.

She imagined facing Corypheus alone. Staring into the deep, hatred-filled eyes of the evil darkspawn magister as she stood on the precipice of death. Without Cullen there to fight with, to fight for, would she even care if she fell into the abyss? She imagined coming home to Skyhold and seeing his office empty, the desk he had laid her upon bare and free of his usual requisitions and reports. Would Skyhold ever be home without him? Would she be able to return? Laughter would never be as sweet without his knowing smirk mirrored back at her. Everything tasted more bitter, light flickered dully, and her world felt hollow without him in it.

“Please wake up, Cullen,” she whispered between sniffles. “Wake up Cullen. Wake up!” she yelled, whipping her head up to look at his face through her tearful eyes. 

At that exact moment, his amber eyes flew open and he took in a short, raspy breath. Catlyn gasped and nearly fell backwards in shock, catching herself on the edge of the bed before she tumbled unceremoniously onto her backside. He was panting but his chest was rising and falling with each breath and his eyes rolled around wildly, trying to focus in on something. She scrambled back up to her knees and grasped his flailing hand in hers, causing him to turn and focus on her face.

“Catlyn,” he whispered, his voice as rugged as the hills in Crestwood but his stare as intense as the sun’s rays. He licked his lips and swallowed tightly before gently squeezing her hand in return. “I love you,” he breathed, and as he did Catlyn felt every bone in her body tingle, every nerve awakened and her spirit come to life like she had never felt before. She choked on a sob of relief and happiness, sniffing ungraciously and laughed.

“I love you too,” she replied and was rewarded with a small smile before his eyes closed once more, this time more peacefully and accompanied by regular breathing. She stayed by his side in vigil, his hand clasped in hers, unwilling to move and sever any connection she may have with him.

“Well that was tense!” Dagna exclaimed with relief from behind her. “The rabbits all took about a minute to recover but I didn’t expect it to be quite that much longer in a human. For a while there I thought it hadn’t worked!”

“How very acute of you, Dagna,” Dorian drawled and rolled his eyes at the little dwarf who just smiled back at him innocently.

“Inquisitor, if I may?” Fiona asked hesitantly, motioning to approach him. Catlyn nodded and shifted over slightly to allow the mage access but refused to let go of his hand. The elven woman knelt beside her and hovered her hands delicately over him, running them over his head and chest slowly before stopping with a curt nod of the head. “I feel no lingering traces of lyrium and his main organs appear intact and healthy. We should administer some healing potions for the next 48 hours but otherwise, judging by what I can see now, the procedure has worked.”

Catlyn felt an enormous rush of relief and let her eyes close briefly before looking at the mage with a genuine, heartfelt smile and tears shimmering in her eyes. ”Thank you, Maker Fiona, thank you so much,” she blabbered, unable to formulate more coherent thoughts than that.

The mage shrugged. “I was not alone in this, Your Worship. Arcanist Dagna and Professor Damerell were instrumental in developing the procedure.”

Catlyn turned and beamed a smile at Dagna who returned it just as brightly. Her gaze then fell to her mother who looked at her with gentleness and sympathy. “Thank you,” she managed again, though more words were not required to express everything that could pass between mother and daughter.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a warm smile, effectively forgiving any accusations she might have thrown her way in the heat of the moment, which Catlyn returned wholeheartedly. “He will need some time to rest and recover. I imagine he will feel somehow as if he were recovering from the plague or other deep sickness, but recover he should. We won’t know for some time what other effects may have been inflicted upon him, but for now we can rest easy knowing that his system is free from lyrium and he won’t be troubled by it any longer.”

Catlyn nodded and turned to face Cullen’s slumbering face once more. He seemed at ease and peaceful like she had never seen him before. Often when he slept she would watch him and keep him company as the nightmares taunted his sleeping mind, stroking his brow gently in the hopes of strengthening his ability to banish them to the Void. He never seemed quite as comfortable as he did now that he was free from the chains that held him back. She gently tucked an errant curl back from his brow and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Sleep now, Commander,” she whispered to him, “and dream sweetly.”


	58. Sweet Admissions and Unfortunate Realities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more ups and downs once Cullen wakes up.

The first thing Cullen became aware of was the pervasive smell of honey and grass. It was heavenly and everywhere around him. He breathed deeply and shifted on the soft bedding beneath him and pried open his sand-filled eyes, blinking as the light hit him like a force of a thousand spells. Maker, he thought to himself, when was the last time I opened them? Before him was a small silhouette hovering over his face expectantly. As his vision focussed, he looked back into the wide eyes of a girl.

“Cat! He’s awake Cat!” Grace shouted with glee, bouncing up and down on the edge of the bed where she sat, causing small waves of pain to shoot through Cullen’s sides. He grimaced slightly in response. “Good afternoon sleepyhead!” she beamed at him and Cullen smiled gingerly in return.

“Easy Grace, you’ll knock him back out again if you aren’t careful,” Catlyn’s voice came from the corner of the room. He turned his head to follow her voice and his eyes landed on her familiar figure seated at her desk, leaning over some reports she was studying. Her room, he realized. I’m in her room. Her intense brown eyes met his and twinkled as she grinned. She lay down the plume she was using and got up to walk to his side, her eyes never once leaving his. He swallowed hard and was overcome with relief at the sight of her. There was nothing in the world he found more comforting and beautiful than the creature standing before him.

She came around to the opposite side from Grace and crawled over to lay by his side, propping herself up on her elbow and leaning in to greet him with a soft, lingering kiss. His lips were set aflame at her touch, heating the rest of his body right down to the tips of his toes. Although he could tell he was stiff and sore, like he had fought at Adamant for a week, he felt alive and clear like he hadn’t felt in over a dozen years. It was if a fog had been lifted from his brain, a weight on his soul that no longer pushed him closer to the abyss. It was a wonderful freedom to feel and he silently thanked the Maker for blessing him once more.

“It’s nice to see you, Commander,” she smiled at him. “I was beginning to think you would sleep your life away.”

“When there are corrupted Red Templars, darkspawn magisters and their pets to fight? I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a grin. “How long have I been out?”

“A little over three days,” she replied and Cullen winced. It hadn’t felt that long to him and he was shocked that so much time had passed. What if something had happened while he was unconscious? He was supposed to be in charge of protecting the Inquisition- he couldn’t very well do that if he were asleep the entire time.

“Maker’s breath,” he groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, noticing that his skin was smooth where he would have expected rough stubble. The thought of Catlyn taking care of him was touching, if not slightly embarrassing. _I wonder what else she washed _, he wondered.__

“Don’t Cullen, don’t do that to yourself. I can see the wheels turning in your head- everything is fine. Rylen made it back to Skyhold the day after you underwent the procedure and has been taking care of everything on your behalf. We’re in good hands,” Catlyn assured him, running her hands protectively over his chest. “If anything this forced confinement has done wonders for the Inquisition. Josephine is thrilled by the amount of correspondence that I’ve gone through in such a short time.”

“Correspondence?” Cullen quirked an eyebrow at her. He knew she hated paperwork.

“Well, since I made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t leaving your side, Josephine made herself equally clear in explaining that I could maintain my vigil while mere feet away from you stationed at my desk sorting through a variety of letters, contracts, and correspondence that has been piling up since we left for South Reach. She was very persuasive,” Catlyn added with a smirk and Cullen chuckled. He knew firsthand how very persuasive their Ambassador could be.

“And I kept you company too!” Grace announced proudly from his other side. “I sat and read to you from the Seer’s Yarn. I think you must have liked the tales because you smiled a lot,” she added confidently.

“My mother used to read to us from the book when we were little,” Cullen admitted with a smile. 

“See! I told you it would help,” Grace’s indignant little face shot over to Catlyn’s who laughed and threw up a hand in defence.

“You are far wiser than your years, little one,” she replied. Grace’s face settled into a smug, satisfied grin that reminded Cullen all too much of the look Catlyn often gave him after settling an argument.

“It seems I have been in good hands then,” he declared in thanks.

Catlyn smiled at him then turned to the little girl once more. “Grace, be a dear and go grab something light for the Commander from the kitchens. I’m sure he’ll need more than the broth we’ve been slipping him while he slept.” Grace nodded quickly and bounded off towards the door, taking two steps at a time as she descended into the keep. 

“Exuberant is a word that comes to mind in describing her,” Cullen mused out loud. Catlyn laughed and nodded her head in agreement.

“She’s full of life, that’s for sure,” she replied before her brow furrowed slightly as she stared down at him. “How are you feeling? You were asleep for a long time. Fiona said this was normal after such a physical strain on your body and Mother has you on a regimen of various concoctions, but I would still like to hear it from you.”

“Aside from feeling as if I’ve been run over by a herd of druffalo, I feel really good actually,” he admitted with a smile. “The aches aren’t the same as when it was the lyrium affecting me. My senses are heightened and my mind is clear. I’ll feel even better once I eat something,” his stomach growling loudly.

“Well that’s a good sign,” she laughed in response. “I’ve no doubt Grace will be back shortly. You should go easy though, your stomach really hasn’t had much in it aside from potions and broth.” Cullen nodded and let his mind drift to the other unanswered questions lurking in his mind.

“When we started the procedure, we were in the undercroft. How did I end up here?” he asked, afraid of what the answer might be.

“Bull, Krem and Rylen carried you up on a litter,” she answered. Cullen winced; it was exactly what he had feared. How embarrassing, he thought to himself: the Commander of the Inquisition Forces carried off to the Inquisitor’s private chambers through the grand hall on a stretcher. If that didn’t get the nobles’ tongues wagging, he didn’t know what would.

“They did it late one night, Cullen,” Catlyn chided as if reading his mind. “The keep was asleep aside from a few guards stationed and most of them already had a sense of what was going on. You were absent for more than a week before I returned, you’ll remember.” Cullen sighed in defeat, accepting the reality he would need to face. He knew it was impossible to keep his condition a complete secret but still, he had hoped to manage some form of dignity wherever possible.

“Cullen, don’t feel badly about this,” she consoled him gently, running her hands soothingly up and down his chest. “If anything, you’ve garnered more respect from the troops with what you dared. The Templars especially are in awe of what you attempted and the surge of hope that has shot through the ranks is enough to topple the highest mountains. All the whispers now are about when they can attempt the same thing. You’re a pillar of inspiration for them. That means a lot.”

Cullen smiled under her gaze and allowed himself to feel a little relief- and pride. He hadn’t really set out to make an example out of himself, but a small part of him hoped that, if he were successful, he might pave the way for others to break the chains of the old Order and everything it had become. Now, recovering from the ordeal and basking in the comfort of knowing he survived, all in the presence of the most incredibly supportive and wonderful human being he had ever met, seemed almost too good to be true.

“And as for what anyone else may say about you being in my quarters, I don’t give a flying nug’s dirty arsehole what anyone says. Josephine can take her marriage contracts, burn them, and send those opportunistic nobles the ashes.” Cullen barked out a short, surprised laugh, which brought a huge grin to Catlyn’s face. The fact that she cared for him enough to make a declaration like that stirred feelings deep within him that he was finally ready to recognize.

“You know I meant it, what I said after the procedure,” he said, his voice deep and full of all the feelings that were bubbling to the surface. He cupped her face tenderly with his hand and stroked her soft cheek with his thumb. “I love you, will always love you, no matter what happens or what fate brings us both. You are the sun of my universe, the pull that keeps me grounded and alive like I’ve never felt before. I’m forever thankful that I didn’t make such a complete ass of myself when we first met that you couldn’t see past my flaws and care enough to stand by my side throughout it all. I am the luckiest man in Thedas to have you by my side and, if you’ll have me, I swear to be by yours until the very end of our days.”

Catlyn stared back at him, wide-eyed and stunned. Cullen held his breath: he knew it was a bold proclamation and one that, despite having felt it countless times before, neither had voiced until this moment. He took a leap of faith hoping that she felt the same.

“I thought you had forgotten,” she breathed, holding his palm to her cheek. He shook his head in reply. “Cullen, I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. When I thought you had died- Maker, it was as if my world had stopped. I was afraid to admit it before, afraid to say it in case it meant something different once the words were spoken. There is still so much at stake and I thought that maybe, should anything go wrong, I might have the chance to hold myself together. But I realize now that was so stupid of me and I will never waste another moment of my life to be able to say how much you mean to me, no matter what happens. I will always love you until the very last breath I take and beyond.” 

Cullen’s heart nearly ripped open at the seams, so much it was filled by her admission. For the first time in years he felt the hot prick of tears in his eyes but this time not of pain and guilt, but joy instead. He pulled her down and pressed his lips against hers, crushing them with whatever force he could muster in an effort to express just how much she meant to him. She returned his embrace as fervently as he gave and the two remained locked in the moment for what could have been hours before he reluctantly pulled away.

“I may never be able to give you a family, I may never be able to give you a long life, but I swear to you that I will give you my heart and soul for everything that it is worth,” he promised her as he held their foreheads pressed together, not wanting to break the connection so soon.

After a moment, she pulled away and he was surprised by the look of anguish on her beautiful features. “Cat, what is it? What’s wrong?”

She sniffed and looked away before inhaling deeply and facing him again. “You know I would stay if I could,” she began but trailed off almost immediately. Cullen sighed and nodded his head.

“That you were even able to be here for all of this is a testament to how much you care. I know that. I also know that Corypheus is on his own schedule and we need to be prepared. What is it this time?”

“Morrigan is convinced that he is headed to the Arbor Wilds but Leliana’s scouts haven’t found much to go on yet. I need to do some recon myself around the Exalted Plains. If Corypheus is looking for ancient Elven artifacts, Solas believes there are some graves near a Dalish settlement that may contain some items of interest. We’re going to have a look ourselves. I should be gone a week, two at most, and when I return hopefully it will be with marching orders on the Wilds.”

Cullen listened carefully to her plan and nodded his head. He wasn’t sure there would be much to find in an area as open at the Exalted Plains- none of his reports had raised any red flags. But still, they had very little to go on aside from the witch’s conjecture. 

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “We have some of the best healers and experts Thedas can offer at Skyhold. I know I’m in good hands.” 

Just then the door below opened and the bounding footsteps of Grace came hurrying up the stairs. Cullen looked over Catlyn’s shoulder to see the girl arrive with a tray laden with food. He chuckled at the quantity of it all.

“Maker Gracie, you could feed a small army with that tray!” Catlyn teased the girl as she strode towards them with great purpose, setting the tray down on a table beside the bed. 

“Well I wasn’t sure what he could feel like so I brought a selection!” she said proudly. “The buns are fresh from the oven and I had the kitchen staff cut up fresh bits of everything- cured meats, cheese, and some of the finest fruit from the orchards on the Emperor’s estate. Whatever you don’t eat I’ll just bring back down, it’s ok,” she added, a slight look of hesitation flickering across her face.

“That was very thoughtful of you Grace, thank you,” Cullen smiled at her reassuringly while Catlyn sat chuckling to herself.

“Why don’t you stay Gracie and keep him company while he eats?” Catlyn suggested. “I need to go and speak with Leliana and my crew before we head out tomorrow. Besides, you can fill Cullen in on everything he’s missed while he’s been indisposed these past couple of weeks,” she added with a smirk. Cullen rolled his eyes. She knew he cared very little for gossip but he supposed if it meant keeping the company of the bright young lady, it wouldn’t be that bad.

“I don’t want to bother the commander,” Grace began, though it was clear from the way she looked at him hopefully that she was wishing for an invitation.

“There is plenty here for the both of us little miss. It would be a pleasure to have your company,” Cullen offered graciously. Grace accepted his offer with another sunbeam smile.

“Honestly, I’m going to have to keep my eye on you two. Stealing my commander away right from under my nose, how bold!” Catlyn admonished her with a wink. She leaned in and gave Cullen another chaste kiss before getting up from the bed and making her way towards the staircase. 

After she left, Grace turned to face him and said, “So, do you want to start with the mages, serving staff or soldiers? Or how about Bull and Dorian? They’re like a whole course unto themselves!”

Cullen chuckled and chose a warm bun from the tray. “Definitely Bull and Dorian,” he answered and took a satisfying bite then settled back into his pillows to enjoy the company.

___

Cullen was confined to his room for another two days before Catlyn’s mother declared him well and able enough to move around. In fact, she insisted that he go for regular walks in order to maintain some of his strength. He had lost a surprising amount in the past weeks, in combination due to his declining health and the recovery. Luckily for him, he had spent years maintaining his overall health and by the third day of his new regimen, he was allowed to pick up a practice sword. Bull and the Chargers in particular enjoyed teasing him as he was only allowed to swing at the practice dummies and he felt like a young adolescent boy wielding his weapon and shield but still, it felt good to do it knowing that it was under his own power and strength and not that of his lyrium-infused body. 

And so began his new regime of a morning walk followed by updates from Rylen and his other captains, some time in the training ring, another walk, more paperwork and reports, following by another walk before enjoying something a bit more leisurely, like a game of chess with Dorian. His skill at arms may have suffered slightly from his recovery, but thankfully his chess game remained at its peak. He was currently in the garden basking in the glory of having decimated Dorian (who had stormed off in a glorious huff, much to Cullen’s delight- he so enjoyed besting his friend) when the professor approached him in the gazebo.

“I see you’re busy exercising your mind as well, Commander,” she gestured approvingly towards the chess board. “I have seen you in the training yards in the morning but am pleased to see that you’re making time for other pursuits as well. It’s good for your recovery.”

“Really? I didn’t realize,” he admitted. “Why is that, Professor?”

“Part of the reason the nightmares you experienced were as vivid and strong as they were is because the lyrium affected your mind,” she explained. “When the runes extracted the lyrium and repaired your body from the harm it had caused, it’s difficult to know the full extent of the effect it could have. Forcing yourself to engage not only your muscles but your mind as well go a long way to help restore you to your normal state, so-to-speak.”

“I see,” Cullen replied, nodding thoughtfully. “Well then, it the name of medicine, would you care for a match?” he asked with a smirk.

The professor laughed heartily. “How could I possibly refuse?” She sat down across from him as he finished resetting the board and the pair began the game in companionable silence. He thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Catlyn’s mother. She shared many similarities as her daughter- quick-witted, full of humour, and wise beyond her years. At the same time, she had calmer demeanour, a gentleness about her that was soothing. Not that Catlyn didn’t, but she had far more fire and temper to her that was a contrast to the slower pace her mother enjoyed. It was no wonder they were a happy balance for one another and he could see how they would have fared well as a pair during their challenging years in Antiva.

After some time, the professor spoke again. “There is something that I should inform you of, Commander.”

“Please, I think we know each other far too well for you to continue with the formalities, Professor. Just Cullen will suffice,” he replied earnestly.

She looked at him thoughtfully and nodded her head. “Then I will expect you to call me Helena,” she said, to which Cullen nodded in acceptance. “As I was saying, there is something that you need to know, Cullen. As I told you before the procedure, though our test subjects showed no ill effects following the procedure, there are certain things that cannot be assessed easily or quickly. Had we had more time, we could have waited, but in your situation time was not on our side.” She held her pawn and looked at him with a look of regret, which made Cullen’s mouth go dry.

“Go on, Helena. I’m thankful that you were even able to save me at all and anything that may come as a result I know you would have prevented if you could.” She sighed and nodded her head slightly.

“We performed the procedure on both a male and a female rabbit that were of procreation age. Both had either sired or had litters in the recent past. Since the procedure, neither has been able to reproduce. It is still early yet and they may still be recovering, but we would have hoped and expected something to have happened by now and yet we still wait. I wanted you to know this only because I don’t think it’s fair to hide it. We always knew it might be a reality.”

Cullen stared at the chessboard and let the repercussions of her information sink in. He had always dreamt of a family of his own and after having seen his nephew and nieces, it stirred something deep within him. He loved his own siblings and knew his parents had taken great pride in them, and he hoped to share that with someone he loved one day. He couldn’t deny the thought of him and Catlyn starting a family together hadn’t crossed his mind: perhaps not now, not with everything at stake, but one day soon before the opportunity passed them by. A dark feeling of dread grew from the pit of his stomach as he realized that window may have closed forever.

“It’s still early Cullen. That particular function may just take more time to recover,” Helena reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. 

Cullen placed his other hand on hers and patted it softly. “Thank you for your honesty, Helena. I suppose this does have certain important repercussions,” he began but fumbled over the next words. “Catlyn is nobility and will need an heir…”

Helena snorted uncharacteristically. “You and I know my daughter well enough to know she doesn’t care about providing an heir to some noble line. There are other cousins she would happily pass her duties on to once she has accomplished whatever it is she would like to with the Trevelyan name.”

Cullen looked up at her questioningly. “Don’t you want grandchildren?”

She returned his look with kind eyes. “I only ever wanted a healthy child- perhaps more, had things turned out differently with her father, but it wasn’t ever something I focussed on too much. Not after what we lived through early on. I also don’t have the same preoccupations that some people have about blood lines. There are many orphans out there, casualties of the mage-Templar war, who need homes. It’s not blood that makes family so much as it is love.”

Cullen’s shoulders lifted slightly in relief. He had never really considered adoption before, but supposed it would be something to consider now under the circumstances. He only wondered if Catlyn would feel the same. He appreciated her mother’s insight but until he heard from Catlyn herself, he couldn’t help but nurse the doubt growing inside him.

“I appreciate your understanding, Helena,” he replied solemnly. “I suppose we’ll know more soon enough.” With that, he picked up his knight and made his next move, losing himself in the board in front of him, thankful for the distraction it allowed.


	59. A New Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn discovers what's been plaguing here these past weeks.

Catlyn dragged her feet and stumbled over an exposed tree root. She cursed as she was launched face first into the ground, barely reaching her hands out in front of her in time to break the fall. Her right hand dagger bounced helplessly out of her grip just out of reach. “Shit,” she swore as she rolled onto her back and threw up her left hand to fend off the demon pursuing her. She gasped as it sensed her weakness and lunged at her with its long, evil-looking claws. Just before they tore into her midsection, she sensed a barrier pop up around her, protecting her from the vicious attack. The demon shrieked in frustration and turned to face whoever would prevent it from its kill just as Bianca’s arrow exploded in its head.

“Inquisitor, quickly! Seal the rift!” Solas yelled to her from across the old plain. Panting heavily, she shook her dazed head and shot her hand out towards the rift, pulling it closed with every last bit of energy she could dig up from within her weary bones. Finally the green gash snapped shut and the air was sucked out of the area, leaving her gasping for breath like a drowning woman forcing her head out above water.

Blackwall came over to her side and offered her his hand. “Your Worship,” he said, taking her grasp and pulling her gently to her feet, “perhaps we have been pushing on too hastily. A day of rest won’t delay our next move significantly.” 

Catlyn looked at him with a scowl, annoyed that she wasn’t alone to notice that she had been slow on her feet for the past several days. It had started not long after leaving Skyhold and Catlyn had assumed that it was just fatigue catching up to her. She hadn’t slept much at all while Cullen was recovering and they left the day after he awoke, which hadn’t given her much time to rest at all herself. But she wasn’t one to struggle with sleep while on the road as some others (Dorian) did, enjoying the nights spent under the starry sky with her companions huddled around the campfire, telling stories and playing cards. She should have been feeling a bit back to normal by now and it concerned her that she felt far from it.

It was unfair of her to snap at her friends for noticing though, so she offered him instead a sheepish smile and nodded. “I’d like for us to make it to Emprise du Lion by tomorrow nightfall, if at all possible, and we can rest at Suledin Keep there. Possibly even send word to Leliana about our delay.” Varric and Solas had also joined them by then and looked at her skeptically.

“What’s wrong with Fort Revasan? Gaspard’s men would be happy to put us up for the night Snips,” Varric suggested. She couldn’t meet his eyes, knowing that if she did he would see right through her veneer.

“I would feel better if we could just get to someplace where we’ve sealed all the rifts. We can come back here at another time but I would feel more comfortable moving on,” she replied and, without waiting for an answer, started off towards where they had tied up their mounts. 

Solas quickly caught up with her. “You are very pale, Inquisitor,” he spoke softly so that his voice wouldn’t carry to the others. “Something is troubling you. Might I be of assistance?”

“It’s nothing Solas, don’t worry about it,” she replied dismissively, though she turned and offered a small smile in appeasement. “Nothing an elfroot potion can’t fix. I should have taken one after the last encounter but I was feeling foolishly brave.”

Solas studied her with what Catlyn felt like was a healthy dose of skepticism, but she kept her smile plastered on her face and squared her shoulders in a show of strength. Mercifully, he let the matter drop.

They reached Suledin Keep well past nightfall the following evening, much to her companions’ dissatisfaction, but she hadn’t wanted to make camp along the way, preferring to reach their destination and sleep behind solid walls. Despite her assurances, she knew she wouldn’t be able to carry her weight if they encountered any further attackers along the way and so had wanted desperately to reach the safety of the Keep’s walls. When they reached their destination, she bid the most cursory of salutations and inspections among the troops and Baron Desjardins before collapsing in a heap on a cot in the small chamber set aside for her visits. She didn’t even bother getting undressed.

The next day she woke up feeling like she hadn’t slept in a year. She dragged her carcass out of bed and sat on the edge of the cot, holding her head in her hands. Maker, was this was a burnout felt like? Catlyn had been exhausted before but she had never felt this bone-weary misery that weighed down every limb. It could only be one of two things, she gathered: she really and truly had run out of energy stores and the weight of Thedas on her shoulders was finally crushing her; or, she had contracted some vile illness when they were at the Storm Coast. It always rained there, no matter when they went, and the damp coldness always seemed to seep into her skin like ice water in a sponge. Her mother always warned her when she was little not to play outside in the rain or else she would catch a chill. She laughed drily to herself that after all these years, perhaps her mother had been right.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she made for the small basin of water left for her and splashed some cool water on her face before readjusting her armour. As she hadn’t even bothered to change out of her clothing when they arrived last night, there was at least one less thing for her to do that morning. 

She joined the others in the small mess hall for breakfast and sat down beside Varric at the long table. He pushed over an untouched bowl of oats but her stomach churned slightly at the sight of the grey, mushy mess and she declined with a short shake of the head. 

“Come on Snips, you’ve barely eaten anything in the past few days,” he chided her. “Curly will kill me if I bring you back looking like you’re on death’s doorstep.”

“My stomach hasn’t caught up with the rest of my body yet Varric,” she replied with a wry grin. “I’ll grab something before we head out. A cup of tea would be good, would you pass the pot over please?” Varric reached over and grabbed a mug and steaming pot and passed it to her. She mumbled a thanks and poured herself a cup and let the warmth of the spicy brew coat her insides. Already she started to feel a bit better.

“I need to speak with the Baron before we leave, but I won’t be long. Will you get the others and meet me at the stables in an hour?” she asked, taking another sip of her tea.

Varric eyed her suspiciously. “Alright Snips, but I’m watching you. We don’t leave unless you eat something.”

Catlyn raised an eyebrow at him and smiled over her mug. “You sound like my mother, Varric.”

“She’s a wise woman, so I’ll take that as a compliment. Pretty too,” he added with a wink before getting up from the table. “Eat, Inquisitor. I don’t care if it’s a slice of bread or a whole bowl of porridge, you will eat something before we leave,” he instructed sternly before making his way out in search of the others. Catlyn watched him go before turning and eyeing the food laid out before her. Not a single thing appealed to her, but she knew Varric was serious with his threat so she grabbed a fresh slice of bread and took a small bite, chewing slowly and washing it down with a big gulp of tea. It’s a start, she thought to herself.

The rest of their journey home was made mostly in silence, with all three of her male companions eyeing her suspiciously and watching her every move the entire way. By the time Skyhold’s causeway came into view, she felt persecuted under their stare and couldn’t wait to make it to the privacy of her own chambers. As bone-tired as she was, she managed to hold her head high as she made her way through the grand hall and past the critical stares of the various nobles that had amassed themselves within the walls while she was away. She nodded her head politely to them but walked briskly past, not allowing them the chance to sidetrack her. She had only one mission at that point: make it to her bed so that she could sleep until the next age.

Her blasted staircase nearly killed her and she was panting like a mabari in heat by the time she reached the top. She fumbled at the straps on her travel cloak, slid her daggers off her back and left them in a puddle on the floor before flinging herself onto her bed with a sigh. She worried for a moment that perhaps she should have stopped in to see one of her advisors to fill them in on what they had discovered in the Plains, but sleep quickly overtook her and within seconds she was out.

She awoke with a start, feeling disoriented and unsure of how she got into the soft bed beneath her. Sunlight poured through her open balcony doors, indicating it was morning. Her hand brushed up her side and felt the soft cotton of her favourite pyjamas instead of her rough leather travel garb. She sat up and looked around her: she was of course in her own room, having just returned to Skyhold, but how did she get changed? She had no recollection of doing anything except flop into her bed. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands and cradled her head delicately. What was wrong with her?

“Good morning little lamb. I thought you might sleep through the day at the rate you were going.”

Catlyn turned and realized her mother was seated in her usual chair by the fire, watching her as she closed the tome she was reading and crossed her hands demurely in her lap. A small smile played on her lips as she watched her confused daughter work through the events of the past twenty-four hours.

“What time is it Mum?” she yawned, her face scrunched in a puzzled expression.

“It’s about mid-morning. Everyone has broken their fast, Cullen is busy entertaining reports from various captains, Sister Leliana is high up in her rookery dispatching her ravens, and dear Josephine is having coffee with the most insufferable comtesse from Orlais. Some Lady Montbelliard. I understand she is on the Council of Heralds so an important player in the Game, but I think even Josie finds her a challenge,” her mother grinned and Catlyn gave a short laugh. It wasn’t common for her mother to speak ill of other people, so for her to say she was insufferable, she could only imagine the kind of trouble the woman was causing.

“I don’t even remember getting changed,” Catlyn mumbled with a sigh.

“You didn’t,” her mother replied helpfully. “A rather embarrassed Commander of the Inquisition Forces helped me undress you. I have to say, Cat, that I see why you find him so charming. The blush on his face when I asked him to lift you up so that I could shimmy those tight pants of yours off was about as crimson as Embrium in full bloom,” she said with a laugh. 

“I can’t imagine he’s ever had the mother of a lover ask him to help disrobe her daughter before,” Catlyn replied archly, though her smile betrayed her mirth. 

“You’re probably right,” her mother allowed with a grin. “I heard from Grace that you had arrived and were seen going immediately to your chambers without so much as a wave in the direction of anyone. When I came to check on you, Cullen was hovering about you, nervously wringing his hands. There wasn’t a thing he could do to make you stir. I took a quick look and assured him there was nothing wrong, just the sleep of an exhausted woman. I managed to convince him that you would be alright in my care, so he left to report back to the other advisors and finish off his day’s work. He spent the night with you so that I could get some sleep and I took over from him again this morning.” Her mother finished and then stood to make her way over to the bed, seating herself beside Catlyn and resting her hand on her brow. “Still no fever. Varric said you hadn’t eaten much and Solas said you looked very pale. How are you feeling?”

“Ugh, just tired,” she groaned and flopped backwards onto her pillows, throwing an arm over her face as she did. “I think I might have picked up something back on the Storm Coast. The weather is as miserable as a drunk with a boil. Either that or I have finally reached my limit in terms of how hard I can push myself, which is really crummy timing given that we’re getting ready to march on the Arbor Wilds within a fortnight, if I have my way.”

Her mother hummed in response and Catlyn could feel her gaze upon her. “Why haven’t you eaten much?”

“Nothing seems appealing,” she shrugged and lifted her arm to look at her mother questioningly. “You think it’s the stomach flu? I thought I would feel achier with something like that,” she mused, stretching her body from side to side in an effort to determine whether anything hurt. It didn’t- she was too tired to feel any aches.

Her mother continued to stare at her through narrowed eyes, searching for something Catlyn, though what Catlyn couldn’t know. Finally she said, “Cole, what do you see when you look at Catlyn?”

“Brightness faded, a strength that is dulled by fatigue. Green, glowing, pushing and pulling at her in that unwanted way,” Cole’s voice came from her other side and Catlyn turned over to face him, her eyes widened in surprise. She had gotten accustomed to his sudden appearances and even knew how to summon him when she needed, but she hadn’t realized her mother had determined how to do the same. He was seated cross-legged on the bed beside her, his head tipped down so that his eyes were covered by the brim of his hat. “But more light too, one where there wasn’t before. Growing, glowing, pulsing- there but not yet, too soon to hear it on its own,” he continued and looked up at her with a shy smile. Catlyn’s mouth dropped open slightly as she tried to make sense of his rambling. She knew Cole could be difficult to understand at times, but even this was confusing for her. He had spoken often of the green light within her, which she understood was the mark and her attachment to the Fade. But this new light he spoke of, what did that mean? Was there something else related to the mark that was drawing on her energy? Was the mark morphing into something else? Was that why she was so tired? And why in Andraste’s name was he smiling at her that way?

“Ahaa, I see,” her mother said, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Catlyn my dear, when was the last time you bled?”

Catlyn blinked her mother. “Bled? As in cut? I don’t know, I got hurt a few times this last mission but Solas healed me right after and it didn’t last long- oh!” she gasped as she stared at her mother in dawning comprehension. Her mother’s small sigh and roll of the eyes said everything she needed to. “Maker’s hairy nut-”

“Catlyn!” her mother cut her off with a stern look.

“Sorry Mum,” she muttered instead. Her head was spinning rather quickly now and the quiet churning in her stomach grew to hurricane proportions. “Honestly, I don’t remember… It hasn’t been all that regular, to be honest. I’ve been under a lot of stress and strain and had gotten used to my cycle being a mess, so it never occurred to me to pay much attention. Maybe before we left for South Reach?” She slid her hand down to rest it on her stomach as she pieced together the puzzle. 

“Extreme fatigue, lack of appetite, missed cycle- I’m not a midwife but I remember feeling that way once before myself,” her mother said with a knowing grin. She looked over at Cole and said, “Thank you Cole, that was very helpful. I would appreciate it if you could keep this to yourself for now.”

“Yes Lady Professor,” he replied with a nod. “I’m glad I helped.” With that, the boy disappeared, leaving Catlyn and her mother alone to ponder the implications of their discovery.

Catlyn was silent. She really didn’t know what to think, it seemed too much to take in at the moment. This was about the worst possible time for something like this to happen and she chastised herself for being so careless. If she had to figure out the exact moment, she suspected it had something to do with the celebration of Cullen’s success at the tournament. She recalled with a flush how they celebrated rather extensively that night. With all the traveling she had done she really hadn’t thought about her own cycle but evidently she should have.

“Maker Mum, what am I going to do?” she breathed. She only had questions but desperately needed answers.

“Well, there are two options really,” her mother offered. “You can keep it, or you can get rid of it. The choice should be yours and Cullen’s.”

“Cullen’s?” she squawked. “You think I should tell him”?

“Well, I assume he is the father, correct?” her mother looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Catlyn scowled at her and nodded her head. “Well then he deserves to know, though the responsibility over the coming months falls predominantly to you and hopefully, if he is as honourable as you say, he will respect your opinion on it.”

Catlyn nodded her head numbly. How could she possibly do what she needed to while carrying another human being? If she continued to feel the way she did now, she couldn’t even imagine getting out of bed, let alone defeating some ancient darkspawn magister.

“I can fix you some potions to alleviate the fatigue,” her mother offered, “if that is of concern to you. The ingredients needed are common enough and grown in Skyhold’s gardens. It won’t arouse suspicion, it could be mistaken for a health potion except the proportions are slightly different. Obviously after a while the other more visible effects won’t be so easy to hide, but it could buy you some time to figure out what you want to do.”

Catlyn nodded her head again numbly but remained silent. There were too many thoughts flying around through her mind for her to form any coherent sentences. She had dreamt of starting a family with Cullen, one that she hadn’t enjoyed herself: a father and a mother to love the child together and raise it surrounded by family, friends, and more love than it could ever know. She just hadn’t thought about doing it right now given what they were facing. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, maybe this wasn’t the best time to be pregnant. It would be selfish of her to want to have the baby and put all of Thedas at risk and she wouldn’t be able to carry on like she did before, closing rifts like it was child’s play, if she were carrying a sack of flour around her midriff.

“I’ll take a potion, if I could,” she managed. Her mother nodded her head and looked at her thoughtfully. It was as if she wanted to say something but was holding back. “What is it Mum?”

Her mother looked as if she were going to say something but thought better of it. Instead she said, “I’ll go mix it now.” She gently stroked Catlyn’s cheek then got up from the bed and made her way towards the stairs. At the top, she turned back to look at her. “You’ll speak to Cullen, right?”

Catlyn tilted her head thoughtfully. Strange of her to ask that again. “I will,” she promised. That seemed to appease her mother, for she gave her a quick nod and made her way down the stairs, leaving Catlyn alone with her thoughts. She lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and let her hand rest on her stomach, wondering if all of a sudden now she could feel something different that she hadn’t noticed before. 

___

True to her word, later that day her mother brought her a modified health potion that immediately relieved Catlyn of the fatigue she was feeling. “I’ll be in my room,” her mother had told her, should she need anything. She had also asked once more whether she was planning on speaking with Cullen, which had Catlyn more thoroughly perplexed than before. Her mother wasn’t usually one to pry or nudge her in any direction, so it was very unlike her to follow up on something like that.

Donning her favourite tunic and leggings along with her soft boots, Catlyn made her way to Cullen’s office just as the dinner bells were ringing. She knew it would be a good opportunity to catch him alone, as most people would be headed off to eat while he preferred to eat in his office or with her. Knowing that he thought she was still holed up in her chambers, she took a gamble that he would be at his desk, working. Which he was.

She knocked gently and heard him call for her to enter, slipping through the door and closing it softly behind her. He was seated at his desk, hunched over a pile of paperwork that never seemed to get any smaller. He finished reading the report as she reached the desk and he looked up in surprise to see her there.

“You’re up!” he exclaimed, standing up and making his way around to her. He slid his arms around her waist and held her gently, like she were a delicate treasure he was honoured to behold. “I was worried sick about you but your mother assured me you were alright, just exhausted.” He seemed relieved to see her and she was reminded that only a short while ago, it was he that was on death’s doorstep. 

“I’m fine Cullen, really. Just pushed myself a bit too much is all,” she replied and immediately chastised herself for glossing over the truth. She had no idea how to approach this with him. So I’m carrying your child and think I need to get rid of it because otherwise I’ll never defeat Corypheus waddling around Thedas like a bloated hog, didn’t seem like quite the opening line she was looking for.

“I’m relieved to hear it,” he said and bent down to kiss her gently. “I think we all forget sometimes that you’re not superhuman and that you have limits as well.”

“Don’t tell the Chantry,” she joked with a roll of the eyes, earning a slight chuckle from Cullen. 

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, ever the gentleman. “Have you eaten? I just heard the bells, we could still join in the evening meal if you’re feeling up to it.”

Catlyn shook her head. “I’m alright. I just came to see how you were doing and what went on while I was away.”

“I’m fine,” he answered with a shy smile. “Your mother had me on a strict regime and it has made quite a difference. I nearly bested Krem the other day in the ring, which was good progress, though I’m still a ways off yet from taking on Bull,” he admitted ruefully. “It has done wonders for my stamina but I’ll admit my ego has taken a bruising.”

Catlyn laughed and leaned in for a hug. “I’m sure you’ll be back to your old self in no time,” she replied encouragingly. Surprisingly, Cullen’s laugh was a bit sadder than she expected. “What’s wrong Cullen?” she asked, leaning back slightly to look up at him. His eyes met hers and he sighed and dropped his gaze slightly.

“I wasn’t sure how to bring this up, but it’s been weighing on me ever since your mother told me,” he began and Catlyn’s heart lurched. What had her mother told him? She thought her mother was going to let her speak to him first?

“You can tell me anything,” she choked out hoarsely, trying to calm the rising panic in her chest. Cullen looked into her eyes and gently stroked her cheek with his gloved hand. The supple leather felt cool on her skin but smelled like him, a mix of the oil he used on his sword and spices. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. 

“You know how your mother said there were certain side effects to the procedure that may take some time to determine?” he began, and Catlyn nodded her head. “One of them was the possibility that I could be unable to father any children. Though it’s uncertain, it appears that may indeed be a reality I have to face. Their test subjects have shown no signs yet of being able to procreate and in all likelihood, that extends to me as well.”

Catlyn heard nothing but blood rushing through her ears as her heart pounded rhythmically in her chest. “It hasn’t been that long, Cullen. You don’t know for certain that is the case,” she croaked out, gripping his arms and staring at his chest.

Cullen sighed. “Your mother said the same thing, but I need to face the possibility that it might be true- and the implications it might have,” he sighed, letting his head drop slightly. “You’ll need an heir, Cat. Maybe not now but in the future. What will it mean if I can’t be the one to do that for you? Everything you’ve achieved, everything you have had to sacrifice- you deserve more than some weak, infertile, washed up ex-Templar,” he said bitterly, his voice laced with regret and disgust.

“Hey, Cullen, you are none of those things,” she looked up and reached for his face soothingly. “If it’s the reality we have to live with than that’s fine, it doesn’t change anything. You know as well as I do that I couldn’t care less about providing an heir to the Trevelyan line. There are others out there that can fulfill that role. I only care about you and I’m so thankful that we were able to find you a new lease on life that will grant us even a day more together than we would have had.” She looked into his eyes and smiled, then reached up to kiss him tenderly on the lips. It never ceased to amaze her how he could still be so hard on himself after everything he had accomplished.

“I wanted a family with you,” he whispered his confession, his eyes squeezed shut to close out the sadness and shame of admitting his heart’s desire.

“We can still have that,” she protested. “Even if it’s just the two of us. Just wait and see, I promise you it seems worse now than it will.”

Cullen nodded his head and pulled her in close. “You’re my everything and I love you. I hope you know that,” he murmured into her hair. Catlyn fought back the tears and squeezed him tightly.

“I love you too Cullen,” she replied, nestling her face further into his shoulder. They stayed there for a while, enjoying the comfort they brought each other while locked in their safe embrace, though Catlyn’s mind couldn’t help but look to the dark secret she harboured.

“I’m sorry, I dropped this on you rather suddenly,” he apologized and withdrew slightly to look at her face. “I haven’t seen you since your return from the Plains. Was there anything you wished to discuss?”

Catlyn stared at him, paralyzed. After his confession, there was no way she was mentioning her predicament now. “Nothing that can’t wait to discuss with the others,” she replied with a forced smile. “Perhaps after supper we can have a small war council session.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “Are you heading over now?”

“Um, in a minute,” she replied hastily. “I need to do something first. I’ll meet you there?”

“Of course,” he smiled and kissed her gently as she left. As soon as she left his office, she made her way to her mother’s chamber, moving as quickly as she could without drawing unwanted attention. The anxiety that had been rising and falling in her chest boiled up again once she was out of Cullen’s sight. She fled through the garden and ran up the stairs and around the corner towards her mother’s modest accommodations. Bursting through the door without a knock, she stopped and stared incredulously at her mother who sat reading in a big wingback chair in front of the window. Startled, her mother looked up at her with concern etched on her face before she realized what was going on.

“Ahh. You’ve spoken with Cullen then.”

Catlyn made a strangled noise as she struggled to find her voice. “You _knew _? What if I had said something before he did?” she shouted, furious that her mother had sent her in so ill-prepared.__

__Her mother closed her tome carefully, placed it on the small table beside her, and stood up to approach her furious daughter. “It was not my place to reveal personal conditions of someone else, Catlyn. You know that.”_ _

__“You’re not a surgeon,” Catlyn spat, her vitriol too overwhelming to control._ _

__“Be that as it may, the situation is not dissimilar and it would not have been proper to divulge that,” she replied calmly, immune to her daughter’s rage. “Had you said something, Cullen would have had to decide whether it was information worth divulging to you or not. It’s his condition, though I would stress that we don’t know for sure what the permanence if its nature is.”_ _

__Catlyn started pacing the room, unable to control the emotions catapulting their way through her brain. “Maker Mum, I may be carrying the only chance he- that we- will ever have to have a child together. This is your grandchild. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”_ _

__“Of course it does Catlyn and don’t think that I withheld that information gladly,” she replied scornfully. “There are many other factors to consider here, as you have so rightly pointed out. The timing is less than ideal. You can’t ignore that reality. You also have to be ready for this.”_ _

__“Oh like you were so ready to have me?” Catlyn laughed bitterly. “My father was so eager he walked out on us.”_ _

__“Catlyn, that’s unfair and you know it,” she replied sternly. In truth she did know it. Still, it didn’t stop her from holding back the anger she felt._ _

__“It’s just that this is all too much to take in now, you know?” she continued pacing frantically. “How am I supposed to fight with a swollen abdomen? Maker, I get attacked, beaten and hurt so often that I could lose it anyways. The risks I face aren’t like those of a normal person. It wouldn’t be fair to raise his expectations like that. Nor mine, for that matter,” she muttered._ _

__Her mother fixed her with a sympathetic stare. “What did Cullen say?”_ _

__“He didn’t say anything,” she huffed._ _

__“Nothing?” her mother asked, a puzzled look on her face._ _

__Catlyn finally succumbed to the despair she was fighting and flopped down onto the bed, clutching her face in her hands. “I didn’t tell him” she mumbled through her fingers._ _

__Her mother made a sound of understanding and quietly made her way to her daughter’s side, seating herself on the bed beside her and gently stroking her back. She said nothing, choosing instead to wait for her daughter to speak when she was ready._ _

__“How could I Mum?” she sniffed, tears escaping her weathered eyes. “You should have seen the look on his face when he told me he couldn’t offer me a family. Like there was just one more short-falling of his to live with. Things were starting to look up a bit after he won the tournament and reunited with his family, but now it’s just back to one shit storm after another. How could I ever look him in the eye and tell him that we might still have a shot at that happiness, but that I would end it before it ever really had a chance?”_ _

__“Your reasons are hardly selfish, Catlyn,” her mother objected. “I think Cullen would understand that.”_ _

__Catlyn shook her head. “The Templar in him might, the soldier that is used to obeying commands and putting the needs of others ahead of themselves, but not the man. Not the man I love. He would be crushed, I know it. I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that,” she added quietly._ _

__Her mother smiled gently. “So you want to keep it?”_ _

__Catlyn wiped away the tears and looked at her mother in the eyes. “I do. Andraste save me, but if there’s any chance, I want to take it. But he can’t know- it would kill him. No honestly mother, don’t fight me on this, I won’t tell him,” she protested, seeing her mother’s disapproving look. “If he knows about this, all of his judgment will be affected. I need him as an advisor and a commander right now, not as the father of my child. I need him to think of Thedas first because Maker knows I probably won’t now.”_ _

__“Catlyn, don’t be so hard on yourself. You have good judgment. You will always make the right choice in the end. I have faith in you,” her mother said encouragingly._ _

__Catlyn smiled thankfully at her before looking back down in her lap at her fidgeting fingers. “If I do lose it, I don’t want him to know that the chance was lost. I think that would be harder than just thinking that the door was already closed.” Her mother nodded her assent and wrapped her arm around her, giving her a squeeze._ _

__“I can fix you a batch of potions that will help with your energy. No one would know the difference between them and a normal elfroot potion, not even if they ingested it accidentally. It should help. This is your first child so you likely won’t begin to show for another few weeks yet. Do you have any idea how far along you might be?”_ _

__Catlyn shrugged. “Honestly Mum, I don’t know… maybe 4 or 5 weeks?”_ _

__Her mother nodded thoughtfully. “You march on the Wilds within the fortnight? Provided you take no direct hits to the abdomen or fall from any great height, your body is built to withstand a surprising amount of wear before it gives in. If you can, it would be wise to lean on your companions a bit more in battle than you would do otherwise, but you can continue to engage in the same kinds of activities as you did before, within reason.”_ _

__“No sparring with Bull and no rooftop running with Sera. Got it,” she nodded seriously and her mother chuckled._ _

__“Among other things,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye._ _

__The pair sat on the bed for some time in silence while Catlyn’s sniffles subsided. “Why can’t our family just conceive normally?” she complained. “You were homeless from the start and now I’m running around chasing Venatori cults and dismantling red lyrium smuggler’s rings.”_ _

__“Your grandmother fought off some bandits who were trying to steal your grandfather’s potions stores when she was seven months pregnant.”_ _

__Shocked, Catlyn’s face shot up to look at her mother. “She what?” she asked incredulously. “You never told me that!”_ _

__“She came back from Genitivi’s house to fetch a longer broom to reach the top of his bookshelves when she found them pilfering your grandfather’s stores. Apparently the war cry she let out frightened the neighbours so badly by the time they came running to see what the fuss was all about, one had fled out the back door and she had cornered another with the fire poker. The neighbours said she was quite the sight, brandishing the weapon like a crazed lunatic.”_ _

__Catlyn’s laugh broke her stunned silence and was joined by her mother’s as the two pictured what her grandmother would have looked like, heavy with child and waving a hot poker at the cowering thief._ _

__“That’s priceless Mum, truly. I can’t believe you never told me that before,” she laughed, wiping fresh tears from her eyes._ _

__Her mother shrugged. “I suppose the opportunity never presented itself. It seemed quite appropriate given the trend we’ve identified.”_ _

__Catlyn sighed and gave her mother an adoring grin. “Thank you.”_ _

__“For what?” she replied with a raised eyebrow._ _

__“For always being there for me. Even when I was terrible and rotten like every other adolescent or when I let you think I was dead for several months. You never judge and always support me. I can’t claim to have always done the same but I promise I will follow your example, no matter what the outcome.”_ _

__Her mother smiled lovingly at her and cupped her face gently, pride and love beaming through her hazel eyes. “It’s what any mother does, little lamb. You’ll see.” She leaned in and kissed her cheek and gave her another squeeze before continuing. “Now, if we don’t hurry we will miss supper. Though you may not feel like it, you need to eat something, if for no other reason than to dispel any suspicions that may grow. You know Sister Leliana wouldn’t miss a thing so if you truly want to keep this to yourself, you need to act the part.” She made to get up but stopped and said, “But maybe limit the amount of drink. I’ve never seen good things come of drunken mothers.”_ _

__Catlyn laughed. “My cover will be blown instantly Mum!”_ _

__“Your reputation is of someone who enjoys life, Catlyn, not of a dipsomaniac.” With that, she walked towards the door and beckoned her daughter, who shrugged her shoulders in defeat and followed her, chuckling the entire way._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi ho, hi ho, it's back to work we go....  
> Updates probably back to a weekly schedule again.


	60. Without a Trace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We arrive at the Arbor Wilds.

Catlyn had been clear in her instructions regarding the Arbor Wilds: everyone was to work together to prepare the forces for the assault. This was not the time for infighting, for pointless bickering and circular arguments. She was right, of course, and Cullen did his best to follow her orders and prepare the troops for the long march.

She had left along with Solas, Bull and Cassandra a week after the decision was made to march along with the rest of the contingent but had pulled ahead and diverted to the Emerald Graves for a last minute mission before joining the rest of the forces in the Wilds. While Cullen preferred to have her near, he was relieved in a way to get to the Wilds ahead of her and flush out any Red Templar forces Samson might have hiding away in the shadowy corners of the woods. If they were walking into an ambush, best she be kept far away and safe from any large scale attack. After all, Haven still lurked in the minds of everyone who survived that day and Cullen had vowed never to let a repeat of those events happen.

As anticipated, there were Red Templars already established in the woods. Leliana’s scouts identified the best strategic locations in which they could establish their own camps and stay relatively out of sight of the enemy, but they had perhaps only a day at best to get established and finalize a plan. Cullen had Rylen and all of his other key captains recalled from their various posts to assist in this push and he spent the latter hours of the night conferring with them before withdrawing to his own tent to get some sleep before the attack the next day. Leliana had received word that the Inquisitor would be joining them the next day, which filled Cullen both with a sense of relief and worry as she prepared to launch herself into battle once more.

He lay on his bedroll, staring up at the tent ceiling and grappling with the same fears he always had, no matter how hard he tried: the fear of losing her was unbearable. Before they had left Skyhold, he had spent some time in the chantry praying that they would survive this ordeal- that she would survive. She deserved to come out the other side with hope and a future after everything she had been through, everything she had given the Inquisition and its followers. She was strong- Maker, the perseverance she displayed was unlike anything he had ever seen- and if anyone was able to do it, she could. Reciting the chant helped him focus on what he hoped for, not what he feared, and he prayed that the Maker would hear him and guide him in his faith.

It worried him slightly that something seemed off with her. He couldn’t quite figure it out, but there was something she was holding back. She tried hard to put on a show of strength and courage but underneath her steely façade was something hidden that had him concerned. He supposed it was fear, like any other normal human being, and told himself that she needed him to be strong in order to lend her the support she needed to face Corypheus; but there was some small seed of doubt that had sown itself in his heart somehow, though he wasn’t sure what it might be. In the absence of the truth, he convinced himself that it was natural concern over the upcoming events and left it at that.

Dawn came too quickly and he dressed himself and left his tent, ready to take on the day’s challenge. As he emerged from his tent, he took a deep, cleansing breath and looked around the camp: the Arbor Wilds were beautiful, almost too perfect to be the site of such impending chaos and battle. The trees stood as high as mountains and the thick canopy was always swaying gently in a ghostly breeze, allowing the sun to shimmer down through the breaks and cast a shine on the moss and flowers that grew beneath the whispering leaves. Calm before the storm, he thought to himself as he strode over to the makeshift war table they had set up. 

Knowing that time was of the essence, the understanding was that Cullen would signal the troops to engage with the Red Templars and begin to clear a path to whatever secrets lay within the Wilds that Corypheus sought. Shortly after dawn, Cullen led the vanguard of troops deeper into the forest and launched the attack on the Red Templar encampment. As he dispatched teams to surround and attack the forward camps, he moved further on, pushing in search of Corypheus’ goal.

He had been concerned at first for his ability to handle the fighting, having spent the past several weeks recovering from his ordeal, but was relieved and inspired by the strength he displayed. Though his full strength wasn’t what it used to be- and, he reluctantly admitted to himself, perhaps may never be again- his skill and agility had mercifully returned and he found his newfound confidence went a long way to fuel his stamina. He was careful but not hesitant and paid more attention to his strategy in battle than he ever had before, drawing on the strength and success of his soldiers around him to dispatch the enemies that surrounded them.

As he crested a small hill and came upon another grove surrounded by ancient ruined battlements, Cullen knew they had reached the ultimate prize: off in the distance, beyond a crumbling staircase flanked by two impressive halla statues, rose vine-covered gates leading down a narrow path to what, Cullen could only imagine. But even despite his lyrium-free body, the old magic sang out to him quietly in the back of his mind, confirming that this was in fact the prize.

Corrupted Red Templars stood expectantly below the battlements, their war cries echoing in his ears as he and his soldiers approached. He barked instructions to his men and set off, the party separating to flank the enemy that waited below. Their swords engaged in a chorus of ringing metals crashing against each other, filling his ears with the sound of heated rage. The red lyrium pulsing in their veins gave them enormous power, but he clenched his jaw and drove on mercilessly, unwilling to waver beneath their wicked attack. He drew on his experience at Samson’s lair many months ago to drive him forward and expose their weakness, however small it may be.

Before long, his limbs shook and his stamina faltered under the sheer power that the corrupted Templars possessed. They had been fighting for hours at this point and despite all the rest and recuperation he had over the past weeks, like any normal human he wavered under the continuous onslaught that they faced. Cullen’s gaze swept anxiously around the battleground, looking for some way to use the old battlement to their advantage, when he saw her. Materializing out of thin air, she drove her twin daggers into the back of a newly frozen behemoth that shattered under her blades in a splintering explosion of red lyrium crystals and distorted limbs. He felt a barrier cast around him and looked up to see Solas standing on the old ruins, his face contorted in an intense concentrated effort to protect the Inquisition soldiers fighting below him. Bull’s taunt was fierce enough to shake Cullen’s very core and he watched for a split second how Catlyn and Cassandra danced together in a beautiful duet of synchronized destruction. Not to be left out, Morrigan stood opposite of Solas, raining fireballs down on the remaining Red Templars surrounding them and in no short order the way was clear and his soldiers let out a cry of jubilation, saluting to the Inquisitor as she and her party assembled alongside them.

His gaze was fixed on Catlyn and her alone as he watched her seek him out, relief evident when she found him standing alive among the Inquisition soldiers. She strode over to him, her brow furrowed in concentration but the anxiety melting away with each step that drew her near.

“Inquisitor,” he saluted her as she approached. She returned the salute with a lopsided grin.

“Commander, I see you have made good progress.”

“We have, thanks to you. Soldiers have been dispatched to deal with the forward camps set up in and around the area. Now that the way is clear, I will return and assess our position and ensure that any gains we have made are secured. You won’t have anyone surprising you from behind, you have my word,” he promised, his resolve restored now that he knew she had made it.

“Good work Commander,” she nodded her head in appreciation. “Morrigan, the others and I will continue on. With the perimeter secured, hopefully we will have cut off Corypheus from his forces if we have managed to beat him to it.”

“Wouldn’t it be wise to send soldiers in with you, Inquisitor?” he asked. He didn’t like the idea of her being ambushed with such a small group to defend her. He knew they had faced many challenges on their missions but it appeared that Corypheus had moved the bulk of his hoard to the Wilds and there was no telling what lie behind the gates.

“We will be cautious with our approach and if we sense that we are outnumbered, we will fall back. I think it’s best to keep our group small for the moment. If we have beat him, we might have a better chance of moving faster if we keep our numbers small,” she replied before dropping her voice slightly. “I’ll be ok, Cullen. This isn’t Adamant. I’ll be the wise leader, not the brave fool this time,” she grinned sheepishly.

Cullen didn’t like it all the same, but pursed his lips and nodded his head in assent nonetheless. “Samson may be there with his men. Do you have the rune?”

She nodded and reached into a concealed pocket, pulling out the small disc for him to see. The glowing red pattern on the object flickered in the sunlight as she examined it. “Dagna made me triple check before leaving Skyhold,” she laughed. 

He inhaled deeply and breathed out slowly, willing his heart rate to slow, to be steady like she needed him to be. “Maker watch over you then, Inquisitor,” he saluted. She returned the salute and turned to go, motioning for the others to follow her. He stood watching her walk towards the gates, walking away for what could be the last time, as it always threatened to be, and was overcome with the compulsion to feel her warmth beside him one more time.

“Catlyn, wait!” he called out and jogged towards her. She turned and walked a few steps back to meet him and stumbled slightly as he pulled her in tightly to him, crushing his lips against hers in a desperate, passionate kiss. At that moment, sun streamed down in silent prayer from the heavens, surrounding them in a joyful glow despite the soulful lament of withering bodies spread about them. Around them, soldiers lowered their weapons and stood solemnly in a silent salute to the pair. Though most people were aware of something going on between the Inquisitor and Commander, the knowledge was mostly passed on through whispers, observed by the captains and the Inquisition’s inner circle that were privy to the tender moments that passed between them. Most wondered why they kept something so beautiful hidden, though at the same time respected their desire for privacy. It would have been granted to them regardless- the entire Inquisition was devoted to their Herald, had been ever since the day she personally rescued those soldiers from the Avaar in the Fallow Mire. They would fight for her, die for her, and respect any decision she made, which included her wish to keep her personal matters private. They felt no differently for the Commander, a beacon of inspiration and pride to them all in a world where normal order had suffered a tremendous blow. Even the non-Templar ranks understood what he had gone through, what he had risked to show the world that there was life beyond the Order; that no one needed to be tied against their will to any organization, no matter the good intentions at its foundation. He was a fair and just leader, one they were proud to stand behind.

Cullen tried to convey all of his confidence, love and trust into the embrace, losing himself in her smell, her warmth, her essence, as he hungrily devoured her, taking her in like his world depended on her. He knew this overt display of affectation was unprofessional, knew it was in the centre of a battlefield with a contingent of onlookers taking in the scene, but he didn’t care. He loved her, more than anyone in the world, and he was tired of having to hold back and temper what he felt was the most wonderful heartache he had ever experienced. 

“Andraste guide you back to me,” he whispered to her hoarsely, his lips throbbing and angry at their release. Speechless, she cupped his face with her hand and stared into his eyes, filling him with her strength and devotion. She nodded wordlessly, not needing to express everything he knew she felt in words. It was evident in her eyes, her touch, the way she held him close to her like he was the only precious thing in the world worth saving. She turned to join the others who had stopped to wait for her and he stood alone in the stream, water trickling over his feet as he watched her disappear through the gates and beyond. 

It was moments later before he moved, after her familiar figure had disappeared from his view, before he turned and made his way back to the group of soldiers that had respectfully waited for him at a distance. “We hold the gates,” he ordered them, focussing himself on the task at hand. “Our herald needs us.”

\---  
They spent the better part of the next two hours clearing out the remaining Red Templar encampments and ensuring that no one threatened the Inquisitor’s rear. His heart had lurched when shortly after her departure they heard the screech of Corypheus’s dragon, followed shortly by its black silhouette taking off into the sky. There was very little activity following that and Cullen wasn’t sure whether to take that as a good sign or not. They still hadn’t come across Samson himself, a thought that worried Cullen immensely. If he wasn’t out here, it must mean that he was inside with her.

After an hour, he sent troops through the gates to see whether there was any sign of them, but they were met with a barred passage. A series of rumbles followed later by an explosion of some kind was enough to spur Cullen into further action. He had no idea what lay beyond the doors of the temple they discovered and had received no word from the Inquisitor or her companions for nearly two hours now. He was starting to get anxious.

“Lieutenant Tallis, go and fetch Lord Pavus please,” he ordered the woman who saluted and promptly jogged off to find him. Some ten minutes later, Dorian strode up to him with a swagger matched only by the most confident of warriors.

“Commander, who wished to see me?” the mage inquired with an easy gaze. Cullen knew his friend well: for all the confident, laid-back façade he put on, he knew he was as roiled up inside as he was. Not only was his best friend beyond the doors, but his lover as well.

“The gates are sealed with something beyond the physical,” he motioned to the doors behind him. “Do you have any idea how to open them?”

“While I am an exceptionally gifted mage, Commander, this is sealed with Elven magic,” he explained, his narrowed eyes an expression of his frustration. “As you know, our resident elven mage is currently on the other side of these doors and not of much use to us.”

Cullen scowled. “Is there another way around this?”

“Not from what we have determined, Ser,” Rylen replied. He had been standing with Cullen when Dorian was summoned and looked on gravely at the situation. “We’ve had scouts inspecting the perimeter ever since we heard the Inquisitor went through, but no success. They continue with their efforts but I’m not convinced they will find anything.”

“Well we can’t just stand here,” he huffed. “We have no trebuchets- that isn’t the kind of battle we were anticipating. Is there a way to scale the sides?”

“Even Bianca isn’t strong enough to land a shot over those walls, Curly,” Varric’s snort joined them from behind. Cullen turned to look at the dwarf. “Even if you could land a shot that high, there’s nothing for it to grasp. This thing was built knowing how to keep the unwanted out.”

Cullen’s scowl deepened as fury and despair intertwined in his gut and slowly snaked their way up his spine. “Well we can’t just stand here and do nothing-” he began but was cut off by the ground-trembling creak of the opening gates before them. The group collectively gasped and took up a defensive stance as the massive temple gates swung open before them. Not sure what to expect, the men waited expectantly, swords drawn, weapons cocked, and spells waiting to be cast.

But nothing came.

After a minute, Cullen raised up from his crouch. “There’s no one there,” he mumbled. Assessing the situation, he quickly made a decision and straitened himself. “Rylen, gather the closest contingent of soldiers and follow us is. Varric, Dorian, with me.” Taking a deep breath, Cullen strode through the gates and into the mysterious temple before him. 

Bodies of dead Red Templars and Grey Wardens lay strewn about on the floor including one leaning up against the balustrade that greeted them at the end of the passage. As he reached the edge, he looked out upon a wide, open area, enormous trees reaching up to the very heavens in the centre, along with another statue-flanked causeway stretching out towards another part of the temple. The stone floor was worn, the walls chipped and crumbling away over time. Leaves and vines snaked their way throughout the space, obscuring the view yet filling the air with a freshness only given by foliage. Beneath the causeway shimmered a lake, its blue-green depths lost under the glimmering sunlight that reflected of its rippling surface before it cascaded down into a bottomless chasm that encircled the opposite side of the temple that lay at the end of the bridge.

“Impressive,” Dorian declared humbly. “Even with age you can sense the magic surrounding this place.”

“What is it?” Cullen asked.

Dorian shrugged. “Elven magic is not my specialty, Commander. Though if I were to hazard a guess, a shrine of some sort to one of their gods.”

Cullen considered the situation for a moment. “Is it safe?”

“As safe as anything we have encountered thus far has been, Commander,” he quipped. “Our little rogue friend may be in a better position to alert us of any common traps that may be lain, and I might be able to sense any magical ones that lay in wait. That said, I get the feeling that if we were truly meant to be kept out, those doors wouldn’t have opened for us.”

Cullen sighed. “We need to find her, Dorian. We go forward.” Summoning his courage, he led the way down the steps and across the causeway, side-stepping the corpses that littered the lower part of the temple. When they arrived at the end of the bridge, they were met with another set of sealed doors.

“Blast,” Cullen swore as he tried to open them. He turned to Dorian, “Is this more magic?”

“Evidently, Commander. Though perhaps there is something…” he trailed off as he searched the doors for something Cullen didn’t know, tracing his fingers along the engravings that were etched into their surface. 

A sudden thunderous click startled them back a few steps as the doors slowly swung open once more.

“Maker’s hairy balls,” Varric swore. “You just can’t make this shit up, I swear,” he announced exasperatedly as the passage opened up before them. Cullen smirked, agreeing with the man but saying nothing as he continued to lead the way. The sounds of footsteps behind them pulled him up short and he turned to face the followers. He relaxed when he saw Rylen returning with a handful of men in tow. They wordlessly joined the trio as they continued down the passage, descending a set of stairs and stepping carefully around the heavy undergrowth that swallowed up most of the floor. Trees and shrubs stuck up from the ground victoriously, reclaiming what once thousands of years ago belonged to the Wilds. 

They continued on for several minutes, winding their way through passages barred by doors that magically opened for them as they drew near. A foreboding sense of being watched settled over the group, but Cullen kept his will strong and marched forward without hesitation.

Eventually they came upon another open courtyard with a reflecting pool in the centre. Whatever god this shrine was dedicated to clearly had either a penchant for water- or for their own image. As Cullen moved further into the area, side-stepping the Red Templar corpses lying about, his breath caught when he came upon a familiar figure lying crumpled yet stirring on the ground before him.

“Samson,” he hissed, then jogged over and knelt beside the man, rolling him over so that he could see his face. He was alive but just barely. His breathing was ragged but his eyes rolled open as Cullen lifted his head. He laughed when he registered his face.

“Isn’t it like you to be just a step too late, Knight-Captain,” he wheezed in his face. “Couldn’t save the Gallows, couldn’t save the Chantry. And now, couldn’t save the Inquisition.”

Cullen’s pulse raced and his grip around the man tightened. “Funny that, Samson. You’re here on death’s doorstep and yet I don’t see a single Inquisition body lying beside you. Seems I’m not too late after all.”

Samson barked out a laugh which turned into a hacking cough, flecks of blood-tinged spittle catching on the side of his mouth. “No man can stand against a god. Your Inquisitor may have slowed Corypheus down but he is far from defeated. You can still join him, be rid of the chains that bind you to the Order.” Cullen stared at him incredulously. Even after everything he had done, how could he still support such a wicked being? How could he believe what he was doing was right?

“I don’t need a false god and red lyrium to break my chains, Samson, and I certainly don’t need to tear down the world in the process. We will defeat Corypheus and with the Maker’s mercy, maybe you will even live to see that day.”

“You were always too weak to take action Cullen,” he spat back at him. “If it weren’t for Hawke, you would have wasted away under Meredith and her insanity. At least I had the courage to stand up for something.”

Cullen smiled sadly at the man. “At the end of the day, Samson, you’re just a pathetic addict throwing himself away to whatever person is willing to feed your hunger. You are the epitome of weakness and deserve whatever Void-damned fate that is in store for you.” Cullen released him back down and stood up, turning to his captain. “Rylen, see that he is brought back to Skyhold- alive if possible. Dorian, Varric, with me.” With that, he turned and left the corrupted ex-Templar lying on the ground and headed towards the only other pathway evident in the chamber: a staircase leading up to another altar of some kind.

He reached the top and stopped, confused at what he saw. He recognized the eluvian that stood opposite him across an empty pool, but it was dark and still. There wasn’t a single body lying there, no evidence that anyone had even been there save for the fact that the pit itself was still damp, as if it had been filled with water only recently.

Cullen turned and pushed his way through Dorian and Varric who had come to stand behind him at the edge of the pool and fled down the stairs towards the soldiers that had picked up Samson and begun carrying him back the way they came. He ran up and halted them, reaching for and grasping Samson’s battered armour with his fist.

“Where are they?” he shouted at him, the anxiety and frustration from feeling so helpless finally bubbling over and spilling out. “Where did they go, Samson? Answer me!” he hollered at the man. Samson’s sinister chuckle hit him like a blow to the stomach.

“Too late,” he croaked. “Always too late.” Cullen growled and shoved him away before turning and speaking to Rylen.

“I want every inch of this place scoured,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Not a single chamber shall remain unchecked, not a vine pulled back, no rock unturned. Find them,” he ordered before stalking off towards the door, panic rising steadily in his chest. How could they have vanished? Where could she have gone? The only sound he heard was his own footsteps echoing off the walls, haunted by a faint laughter taunting him.


	61. A Mother's Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn waits for the rest of the Inquisition to catch up at Skyhold after the Arbor Wilds.

It felt odd being at Skyhold without him here. It felt even stranger that most of her companions were also missing, and odder still that Josephine was out in the field. Josephine was the shield between her and the entire noble population that had taken up residence in Skyhold, and in her absence Catlyn had never felt more exposed or stalked in her own home before in her life. 

The eluvian had offered them safe passage to Skyhold, though Catlyn had emerged from the strange alternate universe feeling more lethargic and disoriented than she had after emerging from the Fade (twice). Solas appeared unaffected by the other world and even Morrigan seemed to fare better than she did, but Catlyn, Bull and Cassandra all struggled through their journey, which had Catlyn nearly wishing to be back in the Arbor Wilds facing Corypheus instead. Almost, but she didn’t exactly have a death wish and so was still thankful for their fortuitous escape route.

Leliana had sent out a raven letting those who remained in the Arbor Wilds know of their safe arrival, but she warned them that it would be at least a day before the raven arrived. Catlyn felt badly knowing that the others, Cullen in particular, would likely be worried sick at their disappearance but persuaded herself that he would be forgiving once he knew she was safe.

In the meantime, she indulged herself in the blanket of quiet that had enveloped Skyhold in the absence of the troops. Support crews consisting of smiths, cooks, and servants had also left with the battalion, leaving even the kitchens, hallways and training yards devoid of the normal hustle and bustle. Most of the remaining soldiers were either on the injured roster or a part of the small force that Cullen ordered to stay to secure the fortress. Though she preferred having others about- her friends especially- there was something very special about having most of Skyhold to herself. 

Catlyn took the opportunity to spend time with Inquisition troops and staff in the Herald’s Rest, buying rounds for those brave enough to take a seat beside the Herald of Andraste and amuse themselves with the tales Bull wove over a pint of some awful Qunari concoction he had Cabot source for him. To her delight, her mother joined her and the pair spent a great deal of time among the company of the good people who were left behind as guards or infirm. 

Bull wasted no opportunity to spend time in the tavern himself, despite the fact that his Chargers were absent as was Dorian. With a drink in one hand, he would sit back in his seat and use the other to elaborate on the wide variety of tales he regaled the spectators with. He was a talented story-teller- not quite as good as Varric, but obviously all the time in the dwarf’s company had rubbed off on him. He even had Catlyn simultaneously blushing in her cups and transfixed, unable to tear her gaze away from him as he recounted the time they took down the Highland Ravager. She was pretty sure half of what he said wasn’t true (did she really get tossed 100 feet back by the dragon’s hind leg?) but most of the details were lost to her in a rush of adrenaline-spiked forgetfulness, so she resigned herself to acceptance and instead focussed mostly on making sure that no one noticed she hadn’t, in fact, consumed any of the ale she had been given, surreptitiously swapping it out for the non-alcoholic ones her mother offered her. She was both thankful for her mother’s assistance and in awe of the woman’s ability to handle her drink. She vowed to ask her about that at a later time.

The next days passed by relatively uneventfully. When she wasn’t touring the Inquisition ranks, Catlyn spent her time with either Morrigan, who was still working through the knowledge acquired from the Well of Sorrows; or Leliana and Cassandra, discussing the latest intelligence including that coming from the upper echelons of the Chantry. It seemed support for her companions was mounting and, as much as she was reluctant to accept it, she acknowledged that she may soon lose one of her two most trusted advisors. She secretly harboured a favourite, though she would never admit it to anyone. She knew both would bring a certain touch to the position and in her mind she had doubts about how far Thedas was ready to go to accept change. If it were come to pass that either woman assumed the title, she knew that they could face anything thrown their way and merely hoped that it wasn’t quite as catastrophic as what she was up against with a wannabe god darkspawn.

On the morning of the third day back, a raven brought news that Cullen and a small party of the Inquisitor’s companions were on their way back to Skyhold. The Arbor Wilds were secured and there was no sign of Corypheus. They had captured Samson and were bringing him in for judgment, though he would come later, having to be transported on some of the supply wagons with the other injured soldiers. Catlyn was relieved to hear that Cullen and her friends were safe and looked forward to their return with great anticipation.

When Catlyn went to bed on the fifth night following her return, she lay in the quiet din of her room, propped up by pillows and staring out at the fading Frostbacks framing her view. She watched the light slowly melt away, like the snowmelt that trickled in endless rivulets down the mountainside. There was nothing but her breathing to keep her company, kept in time by the heartbeat that pounded away gently in her chest. She let her mind wander down to the little swell of her abdomen, barely noticeable under her armour but to her self-aware touch it was an obvious bulge that couldn’t be ignored. Aside from the fatigue that plagued her and her sudden distaste for her favourite sweet rolls, she didn’t feel all that different. She wondered whether perhaps it was all a mistake. Her bloated belly could have easily been caused by that spicy stew Donatien made, or the result of a long night at the ‘Rest. In the absence of any other signs (or Cole’s preternatural ability to hear other beings’ thoughts), it was difficult to imagine that she was growing another human inside of her. Her little baby. Hers and Cullen’s little baby, she thought to herself. A part of her longed to believe it and hope for a happy ending; and yet another part altogether was fearful of the secret she harboured and the pain it could cause if ever something were to happen to it, or her.

She had closed her eyes in a dreamy reverie and was startled when she was wakened by a frantic knocking on her door and her name shouted repeatedly.

“Inquisitor! Inquisitor! Please, it’s urgent!” a muffled voice called from behind her door. Catlyn flailed about in her bed, wiping the sand from her eyes as she took in her surroundings. It was bright outside- had she slept through the night? A rarity for her- which told her it was mid-morning already. 

“Enter!” she managed to croak out, and hastily arranged her blankets- and herself- before the guest entered.

“I’m very sorry to disturb you Your Worship,” Leliana’s messenger panted as she reached the top of the stairs. “Sister Leliana is asking for you immediately. She’s in the gardens where Lady Morrigan keeps her magical mirror.”

The mention of the eluvian snapped Catlyn to attention faster than a bucket of ice water from the Sahrnia well. “Is Lady Morrigan with her?”

The messenger shook her head, her face pale as moonlight. “No, Your Worship.”

Catlyn’s mouth set into a grim line. “I’ll be right there.” The messenger hurried away again, leaving Catlyn the privacy to get dressed quickly and rush down to join Leliana. If Leliana was concerned about the eluvian, it could only mean one thing- that Morrigan wasn’t ther. And if she wasn’t there, it begged the question: what happened to her and all the secrets she gained by receiving the power from the Well? Had she deceived them all? Was this her move, her daring escape with all the hope they may have at finding a way to defeat Corypheus? Catlyn willed herself not to believe it. She had spent enough time with the woman, knew enough from Leliana, that it didn’t seem like the kind of thing she would do. So she pushed the dark thoughts to the very back of her mind and focussed instead on getting dressed and making it down to the gardens as fast as she could.

Catlyn’s heart was racing by the time she reached the small room off the gardens. Leliana was standing in front of the lit eluvian, her hands in an uncharacteristic twist.

“What’s going on?” Catlyn puffed as she entered the room. Leliana’s tortured gaze left her little hope that it was anything good.

“It’s Morrigan, she- she…” Leliana trailed off as she looked into the glass. “I came down to see how she was doing but she wasn’t by the gazebo. I heard a cry and followed it in here. She said something about Kieran having opened it, then she went in- after him, presumably,” she recounted in an oddly worried tone. It was rare to see Leliana flustered about anything and her agitated demeanour had Catlyn on edge as she looked on suspiciously at the eluvian. She knew the pair had traveled together during the Fifth Blight but aside from a mutual respect, the pair remained more distant that Catlyn would have expected from companions who had looked into the eyes of an archdemon together. The fact that Leliana appeared so distressed right now threw into question everything she thought she understood about their relationship.

“Kieran opened this? And went in?” she asked and Leliana merely nodded in reply. Catlyn took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The fact that Kieran possessed the ability to activate the eluvians came somewhat as a surprise to her. Morrigan had never indicated that her son possessed any unique abilities, certainly none of the magical sort. However, the fact that Morrigan was upset that he had gone into one of her precious eluvians concerned her even more. She had claimed to have spent a lot of time in the other world, presumably with Kieran given his age and everything that had transpired since the blight. Why would it alarm her so much now that he went into a well-known world?

“What will you do, Inquisitor?” Leliana’s strained voice asked. 

Catlyn squared her shoulders and marched forward. “Go after her, of course.” When she passed through the eluvian, she found herself in a hauntingly familiar place. Of course this is where he had to lead them, she thought as she cursed under her breath.

“Always the fucking Fade.”


	62. Just When You Thought It Was Going Well...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finally hears word from Catlyn but is disappointed when he returns to Skyhold.

Cullen sulked alone by the fire. His anxiety since discovering the Inquisitor and her party had all but vanished and was replaced by a prickly bark that kept most people at bay. Even Dorian who was surprisingly patient gave him a wide berth. The hopeful look in his eyes every time a messenger brought him a report was heart-breaking. None brought news of the Herald. He tried his best to remain stoic but it was painfully evident that he was not only troubled by the fact that their leader was missing, but that the woman he loved had disappeared.

“We can’t just leave Curly to brood. His face is as dark as a thundercloud I half expect the skies to open up and pour on us,” Varric decided as he and Dorian sat a ways over from the commander in front of another fire.

“I rather think he enjoys being master of the dark brooding look,” Dorian replied thoughtfully. 

“Naw, I know someone else who has that act all locked up. This isn’t his bag,” Varric waved the mage off dismissively. “Come on Sparkler, let’s see if we can perk him up a bit.” Varric stood up and made his way over to Cullen’s side, seating himself a few feet away while Dorian followed with a dramatic sigh and placed himself on the other. Cullen didn’t even bother looking up.

Varric scratched his chin thoughtfully and rested his forearms on his legs. “Sparkler, do you remember that camp in the Graves?” 

“The one Catlyn found impossible to get to without circumventing at least two trails and usually spraining her ankle in the process?” he replied without missing a beat. “Briathos’ Steps I believe.” 

Varric chuckled to himself. “Something about the fence around Villa Maurel threw her off completely. I’ve never seen someone so disoriented before in my life.”

“I used to cast dispel on her in the off chance it might make a difference,” Dorian admitted.

“Did it ever work?” 

“Sadly, not once.”

Varric laughed but Cullen remained seated with his gaze transfixed ahead of him on the flames. “I’ve never seen anyone leave as many trail markers as she did and she was constantly checking for the sun to make sure we were headed in the right direction. She’d never take our advice either, always had to check it for herself. It’s a wonder she ever made a good assassin. How she managed to sneak in and out of estates quickly and undetected is beyond me.”

“The woman can navigate the Fade, defeat demons and take out entire camps of Red Templars nearly on her own…” Dorian began.

“But ask her which way is north?”

“And you will undoubtedly end up three leagues into the Deep Roads,” he finished.

“It’s a wonder she ever made it back to us after Haven,” Varric pointed out.

“This is true. Had I known at that time how poorly she was able to navigate I would have never held any hope of her finding us. It was pure luck that brought her back, I’m sure of it now.”

Cullen listened to the two men chatter across from him with gritted teeth. “Is there a reason why you two are here?” he ground out, still refusing to look up at either of them.

“Just thought you could use a distraction is all Curly,” Varric answered easily. 

“And discussing the Inquisitor is meant to help?”

“We are specifically discussing her inability to accurately ascertain her position, Commander,” Dorian quipped. This earned him a baleful glare from Cullen.

“And this is supposed to help me?” he nearly growled, causing Dorian to flinch noticeably for the first time he could remember.

“The point is, Curly, Snips gets lost all the time. She stumbles into the most nugshit insane situations and always finds a way to come back. Haven, Adamant, Suledin’s Keep, you name it. She’s probably met any demon worth meeting and has come out on top every time. Have a little faith,” he added, ignoring Cullen’s ire. “Isn’t that what they taught you in the Chantry?”

Cullen was about to open his mouth to reply when a scout came trotting over to the fire. “Ser! Raven for you. From Skyhold. Could be important,” he added quickly as Cullen turned his focus to the poor man. Cullen stood and held out his hand for the missive, snatching it and quickly opening the seal to read the carefully scripted contents of the rolled up vellum. He recognized Leliana’s seal instantly. Varric and Dorian watched as his furrowed brow relaxed, the tension in his shoulders immediately releasing as he read through the contents, only to be replaced by compunction.

“Well come on now Commander, don’t keep secrets,” Dorian chided from his position by the fire.

Cullen swallowed his pride and straightened himself. “The Inquisitor and her party are all at Skyhold, intact and unharmed. They passed through an eluvian with Lady Morrigan’s assistance and await our return.”

“The entire party?” Dorian asked, eye brow raised.

“All members,” Cullen confirmed and noted Dorian’s posture relax as well. He had been so wrapped up in his own misery that he had forgotten the impact their disappearance may have had on Dorian. After all, Catlyn was his best friend too- and Bull had gone into the temple with her as well.

Cullen turned to face Varric who sat covering his mouth in an attempt to hide his mirth. “Not a word, dwarf,” he warned.

“How come a gesture of goodwill is met with contempt?” he complained to no one in particular. Varric watched as Cullen turned and stalked off towards away from the fire- and his tent.

“Where you headed Curly?” he called out after him.

“Skyhold,” was his only answer. Varric and Dorian both stared at each other.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Dorian said, more a statement of fact than a remark.

“Snips probably wouldn’t like that much,” Varric scratched his chin again, considering their options. “We should probably go after him.”

“Yes, probably,” Dorian agreed.

“He won’t like tagalongs. He’ll argue that it will slow him down.”

“Certainly someone needs to remind him that there is a war going on in our midst and a lone traveler is an easy target for all manner of vermin.”

“Are you going to be to the one to tell him?”

“I was rather hoping you might be up to the task,” Dorian replied sweetly. “After all, you two have history together.”

“You’re friends,” Varric countered. “He trusts you.”

“Care to play for it?” Varric considered for a moment and nodded his head. The two men put out their fists and shook their hands three times before revealing their selection. Dorian’s paper covered Varric’s rock. “Andraste’s dimpled buttcheeks,” he groaned.

“Child of the stone, what a terribly clichéd choice!” Dorian shook his head. “I’ll make sure a reply was sent to Sister Leliana and that his strapping young Captain Rylen is aware of the Commander’s getaway. Besides, I’ll be able to catch up faster to your little pony on my mount anyways.”

“Hey now, just because she’s small doesn’t mean Streaker isn’t fast,” he replied in mock-hurt. Dorian snorted and headed off to find Rylen and a messenger, leaving Varric to his mount. She whickered at him in irritation, unimpressed at being disturbed at this hour of the night.

“Sorry girl,” he stroked her flank apologetically before hoisting himself up in the saddle. “Extra apples for you once we get to Skyhold.” She whinnied in acceptance and trotted off in the direction that Cullen left, leaving the warmth and security of the camp behind in the shadows.

\---  
True to their word, Cullen nearly rode Varric, Dorian and himself into the ground by the time they reached Skyhold. They travelled tirelessly, stopping for only a few hours rest at a time, and made it to Skyhold nearly two days’ ride from their camp. 

Barely stopping to pass his horse off to Master Dennett (and ignoring the glare the old horsemaster shot him upon taking in the condition of his stallion), Cullen flew up the stairs two at a time to the keep. He burst through the main doors and strode purposefully towards Catlyn’s chambers, ignoring the gasps of surprise from the nobles who were shocked by the sudden and disheveled appearance of the Commander. Just as he was about to open the door to her chambers, Leliana called out to him.

“Commander! A word!”

Cullen stopped, fists clenched at his sides, and took in a deep breath before turning to stare at the spymaster. He was in no mood for interruptions but could tell from her tone that something was amiss.

“I must speak with you,” she said, indicating that he should follow her. Cullen assumed she would lead him to the ambassador’s absent office, so he reluctantly turned to follow her that way. 

“Can this not wait, Sister?” he ground out. “I would speak with the Inquisitor first,” he stopped in front of Josephine’s doors with a puzzled glance and Leliana continued through the main keep. 

“It’s regarding the Inquisitor, Commander,” she replied quietly, her voice lowered so as to not travel to the small crowd of onlookers who had gathered to watch the scene unfold. Cullen’s heart stopped and he felt the blood rush to his feet. Where was Catlyn? He quickly followed Leliana through the doors leading to the garden and passed the gazebo towards the small chamber that housed the witch’s mirror. With every step he took, a deeper sense of dread washed over him like waves on an empty shore. 

They came to stand in front of the dark, grey mirror and a sense of foreboding hit him like a punch. Leliana’s letter, as cryptic as it was, clearly indicated that the Inquisitor had her party had made it back to Skyhold safely through the eluvian- yet here they were, standing in front of the enchanted item with no Inquisitor and no companions.

“Where is she Leliana?” he asked, barely trusting his own voice. Leliana pursed her lips in concern and glanced nervously at the mirror.

“I came down to see how Morrigan was doing after everything that happened at the Temple of Mythal. She had been elusive and withdrawn since returning- not uncommon for her really, but I know her well enough to sense when something is wrong. When I arrived I heard a cry and came running to find her ready to pass through the mirror. She mentioned something about Kieran opening the portal and it is true, the boy is missing, but she was distressed, beside herself even,” Leliana explained. “She is the keeper of whatever knowledge was gained by drinking from the Well of Sorrows- we can’t let that go to waste. So I called for the Inquisitor and before I could even call for reinforcements…” her voice trailed off and she looked at Cullen almost apologetically.

“She was chasing after her,” he breathed, all of his fears coming back to life. Right when he thought everything would be ok, that she was out of harm’s way even for a moment, it was snatched away from him again. He stared helplessly at the mirror. He was useless in the face of such ancient magic and there was no way to activate the mirror without the presence of the mage. “What do we do?”

Leliana shrugged and looked at the mirror. “There is nothing we can do but wait.” Cullen felt like that was what he had been doing his entire life.


	63. A Mother Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn enters the Fade in search of Kieran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two quick chapters. We're in the home stretch- I think only one, maybe two chapters left and an epilogue...

Catlyn’s heart wrenched as she watched her companion’s face contort with the guilty realization that she had put her own son at risk. His innocent, sad eyes stared back at her in quiet supplication, begging for her understanding and forgiveness when she herself struggled to ask for his. For all the woman’s masks and veneers, at the heart of it all was a mother like any other, desperate to protect her child from the world around it, forever seeing failure in her efforts to keep them safe.

“He returns with me.” Her answer was quick and firm, unwavering in its delivery. Flemeth’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“Decided so quickly?”

“Do whatever you wish. Take over my body now, if you must, but Kieran will be free from your clutches,” she declared, her voice betraying a slight quaver. “I am many things, but I will not be the mother you were to me.”

Catlyn was surprised at the pained look Flemeth gave her daughter, the wound she inflicted on the ethereal woman so human it touched her in a surprising manner. Wordlessly, Flemeth turned to Kieran who faced her calmly and with a quiet acceptance that was as impressive as it was horrifying. She held her hands out to him and took his small set in her own. A blue nimbus of light engulfed his little chest and a small ball of light emerged from him and passed towards the old woman. Catlyn watched curiously as the light was gently consumed by Flemeth’s body.

Kieran looked up at his grandmother with a hopeful smile. “No more dreams?”

“No more dreams,” she replied with a warm smile of her own. Satisfied, Kieran turned and walked back into the welcoming arms of his mother and Catlyn released a little inward sigh of relief.

“A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan. You were never in danger from me,” Flemeth said with a ghosted look in her eyes. “Listen to the voices. They will teach you- as I never did.” With that, the Witch of the Wilds turned and walked away into the Fade, leaving the trio alone in the other realm.

“Wait!” Morrigan called out forlornly to her mother, but the woman kept walking out of sight. Morrigan stood with her arm outstretched for a moment before dropping it with a sigh and turning her attention back to her son. She knelt down and pulled him in tightly to her, a mixture of relief and fulfillment tracing her delicate features. She pulled back a moment to look him in the eyes. “Are you alright, Kieran? You are not hurt?”

Kieran’s innocent wide eyes were sad when he replied. “I feel lonely.” Morrigan stifled a little sob and forced her lips into a small smile. She nodded to him and pulled him back in tightly in her embrace. Catlyn stood by at a respectful distance and left the pair to their reunion. She placed a hand on her abdomen and curled her lips ever so slightly into a knowing smile. It was early yet, but she knew she shared Morrigan’s opinion on what a child meant to their mother. If the roles had been reversed, she wouldn’t have hesitated for a second either, sacrificing her own freedom for that of her child’s. She knew this, even though she barely understood what had passed between the two women.

Morrigan stood and turned to Catlyn. “We’re ready, Inquisitor. Best be gone from this place before we attract unwanted attention. No harm would come to us with Mythal nearby, but now that she is gone, we have no reason to linger.” Catlyn agreed wholeheartedly and let the mage lead the way. Finally, a journey through the Fade that didn’t result in her being chased by demons. It was a welcome experience, though not one she cared to repeat any time soon.

\---  
When they emerged from the eluvian, Catlyn was surprised to see Leliana joined by Cullen in the small chamber waiting for them. He had a haunted look on his face as he met hers and for a second she felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t meant for him to return with her missing and knew that he must have died all over again thinking that she was lost to him once more.

“Inquisitor! Morrigan!” Leliana exclaimed as the trio stepped through the glass. “Thank the Maker you’re alright!” She ran up to them and gave Morrigan an uncharacteristic embrace which startled the mage nearly as much as it surprised Catlyn. Morrigan returned it awkwardly but appeared relieved when Leliana let go and turned her attention to Catlyn. “What happened in there?”

“A bit of a family reunion, so-to-speak,” Catlyn replied with a grin. Morrigan scowled. “Perhaps we can share the story once Morrigan has seen to Kieran?” She cast her advisor a knowing glance which she quickly received.

“Of course, Inquisitor. Call for me when you wish to discuss things further,” she replied and dismissed herself with a nod. Morrigan cast her a thankful smile before ushering Kieran out towards their chambers, leaving Catlyn alone with Cullen. His eyes raked over her hungrily, desperate to hold her and feel the warmth of her pressed against him.

“Miss me?” she asked with a smirk. 

“Maker’s blighted balls,” he swore uncharacteristically, causing Catlyn to bark out a laugh as he lunged for her and swept her up into a fierce embrace. She could barely breathe under his grasp and clung desperately to his pauldrons as he lifted her off her feet. “You will be the death of me, you know that?” he mumbled into her hair, burrowing his face closer into the crook of her neck. She chuckled with what little breath she had left and ran her fingers through his unruly curls.

“I didn’t mean for you to return and find me gone,” she murmured in apology.

“I should be getting used to this.”

Catlyn’s heart lurched and she clutched him tighter. “I hope you never do.” He pulled away gently just enough to bend down and kiss her, pressing his lips reverently against her own. 

“What happened in there?” he motioned to the eluvian.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Catlyn replied with a frown. Morrigan had explained to her briefly what had passed between her and her mother, but Catlyn felt as if she were left with more questions than answers. “I was hoping Leliana might be able to shed some light on the matter. After all, she traveled with Morrigan during the Blight and has history with her. Maybe she can make some sense of this.”

“Did Lady Morrigan not explain?”

“I’m not an expert in ancient magic Cullen. I still get a thrill every time Dorian conjures a fireball- don’t tell him I said that though, it’ll go straight to his head,” she added with a roll of her eyes.

“He does look as if he’s expecting applause after ever spell,” Cullen admitted with a smirk.

“As much as I would like to continue our own little reunion, I think it’s best if we speak with Leliana. You’ll forgive me?” she looked into his eyes regretfully.

“Duty calls, Inquisitor,” he replied in understanding, but not before planting one last chaste kiss on her lips before they turned and crossed the gardens towards the keep.

\---  
Two hours later, after an enlightening yet equally perplexing discussion about old god souls, elven history and dragons, Catlyn’s head was swimming. The only thing she retained by the end of it was that Morrigan believed she held the power to defeat Corypheus’ pet. Despite her certain prowess as a dragonslayer, Catlyn was relieved to know that she wouldn’t need to fell a potentially blighted one.

“Will Kieran be alright?” Leliana asked her old friend. The foursome had exhausted most avenues of discussion by this point and the well-being of the boy was perhaps the only subject remaining. A wan smile flashed across Morrigan’s face.

“He will. Eventually. T’will take some time to adjust to the emptiness,” she replied.

“Have you ever taken him to…” Leliana asked, trailing off slightly at the end and allowing Morrigan to intercept her question.

“No.” Leliana nodded knowingly. Catlyn watched the exchange between the pair with piqued interest but remained quiet.

“Are things any different now?”

“They are in many ways, but not in that respect,” Morrigan replied firmly. Leliana nodded her head and dropped the questioning.

“Well I believe that is everything, Inquisitor. Perhaps we can reconvene once Josephine has returned. I’ve received word that she is a day’s ride out of Skyhold,” Leliana suggested much to Catlyn’s relief. Her time in the Fade left her feeling drained and she knew her legs would give out from under her at any moment now. She needed one of her mother’s potions and fast, unless she intended to have the contents of her last meal resurface shortly.

“Thank you, Leliana,” she replied in dismissal and the two women left the War Room, leaving Catlyn alone with Cullen once more. He stared at her with concern-filled eyes.

“You’re not well,” he accused, meeting her weary gaze with a worried one of his own. Catlyn shifted uncomfortably. It was true, she did not feel very well at all, but she knew sharing that with him would only lead to unwanted questions that she would have trouble answering. Withholding of information she could justify- but outright lies would never sit well with her, no matter how noble the reason.

“Time moves differently in the Fade, Cullen. I just need to rest a bit,” she replied and made to leave the room just as her legs really did give way beneath her. Cullen was there in an instant, scooping her up into his strong, steady arms just as he had when she stumbled into their camp after Haven fell.

“Aren’t you the knight in shining armour,” she grinned through heavily lidded eyes. She slumped into his chest and barely clung to his pauldrons, fatigue taking over her travel-weary body.

Wordlessly, he carried her up to her chambers, cursing ever so slightly under his breath as he approached the last set of stairs leading up to her chambers. If she weren’t so Maker forsaken tired, she might have managed to feel a little guilty, but somehow knowing that he was partially to blame for her predicament absolved her of any such feelings.

With the utmost care, he laid her down on her bed and proceeded to disrobe her, laying her tunic and leggings neatly on the divan in her room. He returned to tuck her in, kissed her brow and made as if to leave.

“Where are you going?” she mumbled, clumsily propping herself up on an elbow to get a better view of him.

“I have work that needs attending,” he replied softly. “I haven’t even so much as checked in with the captain I assigned to Skyhold before leaving.”

“It’s late Cullen. What’s one more day? Please stay,” she begged, not meaning to sound so pitiful but she really couldn’t bear to be alone right now. She must have looked pathetic enough because he took a deep sigh and dropped his shoulders in defeat. Wordlessly, he began undressing himself and Catlyn snuggled back down under the covers in exquisite satisfaction. 

He lifted the covers and joined her in the rapidly growing warmth. In an instant she was snuggled up to him, curled along his body like a second skin that always belonged. He wrapped his arm around her and Catlyn never felt more safe and at home than she did at that moment.

“Cullen,” she mumbled through a yawn.

“Yes?”

The sound of her even breathing and slight purring was her only response. Cullen smirked and ran his fingers idly through her hair, kissing her crown.

“I love you too,” he whispered.


	64. Thinking Out Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief interlude before Corypheus attacks

Cullen woke to sunlight warming his face as the sun crested the tops of the Frostbacks. He felt decidedly warm, though it had very little to do with the sunlight and far more with the woman sprawled out across his chest, waist, legs, etc. in a tangle of hair and limbs. He turned and gazed down at his sleeping beauty, her features relaxed and peaceful as though enveloped in a safe cocoon, protected from wars and responsibilities that far outweighed his own. He carried his own burdens but it was not his face at the forefront of the Inquisition, not his name that people would either curse or worship depending on which side of the line they fell on. In a way it was easy to forget that anything outside Corypheus and the Venatori existed, but even if they managed to stem his tide of destruction, the Mage-Templar War raged on, and ultimately it was the reason the Inquisition was formed in the first place: to bring peace to the land and restore order, though just how they were supposed to do that was still yet unclear. Whatever the result, he knew they would make enemies as easily as allies and the road ahead would be fraught with trials and tribulations unlike any they had encountered yet.

She stirred under his gaze and opened her eyes, the hazy curtain of sleep slowly parting and allowing the light to shine forth from her smile. She let out a contented sigh and nestled herself comfortably into her pillows. Cullen smiled back at her, tenderly brushing her sleep-mussed hair from her face.

“Good morning Commander,” she mumbled groggily, her voice still not caught up to the rest of her features. 

“Inquisitor,” he replied with a smirk. “I trust you slept well?”

“Hmmm,” she murmured in assent. “I had some interesting dreams.”

“Really?” he cocked an eyebrow at her. “Come now Inquisitor, don’t keep secrets.”

“Some involved you, serrah, and my maidenly innocence would be compromised should I be forced to recount the wilder adventures,” she replied in mock dismay. She giggled when he rolled his eyes at her, then after a moment quieted and furrowed her brow slightly. “The others, however, were a bit more curious. I remembered the day we arrived at the Conclave. Gaspar had me and a few others from his crew accompany him. We didn’t arrive in some formal delegation like many of the other nobility there. We simply followed many of the other throngs that were filing in, like some fateful march.” She paused and appeared lost in thought for a moment. Cullen lay motionless, afraid to startle her like a timid doe in the woods. It was the first time she had spoken voluntarily of the Conclave since she recounted whatever memories were restored to her in the Fade at Adamant. He was curious what else had been triggered recently and so kept still and listened.

“I remember seeing the mages and Templars filing in, one after the other, marching towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes like they were setting forth for battle. The hostility between them was palpable. I can’t claim to be someone who never felt anger and resentment before, but what passed between them was like centuries of bottled oppression and distrust, shaken to the point of explosion. I remember feeling very ignorant and petty. Up until that point I was still so caught up in my own youth that I was blinded and couldn’t see the real oppression that exited all around me.”

“You were unfairly treated and forced into poverty at a very young age,” he reminded her gently. “Your mother in particular knew a kind of oppression that was both unwarranted and unjust.”

Catlyn shrugged and shook her head. “True, but at least we weren’t spurned by an entire religion and forced to believe that we were a menace to society, something that needed to be jailed and mistrusted on account of something we were simply born with. I know you were once a part of the Order Cullen, and I mean no disrespect, but I don’t think what it has become is the right path.”

“Neither do I, which is one of the reasons I left,” he replied. “Magic is a wonderful, mysterious gift that is as much a tool as it is a weapon. If mistreated, it can cause great destruction- but so can a sword. Put in the hands of someone with violent ends in mind and the result can be catastrophic.”

Catlyn considered him for a moment, her face drawn in concentration. “The Inquisition would have me decide their fate. I’m not sure that I feel I am the most qualified person to do that.”

“You’ve led us farther than we ever thought possible, Catlyn,” he replied softly and reached out to stroke her cheek. “Your sense of justice and equality are both balanced and creative. You bring people together for a cause that transcends race, religion, and beliefs. Part of what makes you the right leader is that you don’t have a bias or preconceived notion like most of us have of what things should look like. It allows you to see beyond the issues to the true causes that most of us are incapable of seeing. We all have every faith that our decision to elevate you to Inquisitor was the right one.”

Her smile, while appreciative, remained somewhat unconvinced. “What would you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“With the mages. Would you put them back in a Circle? Or would you give them freedom?”

Cullen considered for a moment. Years ago his answer would have been swift and definitive, and left little room for negotiation. Now, he surprised even himself at his response. “I believe they deserve some measure of freedom like everyone else enjoys. Whether it be in a Circle or some other form of organization, I believe the matter is open for debate. I do believe that there is a place for the Order in this world too though. That somehow mages need to be protected not only from themselves but from those who are unwilling to accept that they are human just like everyone else. I do believe they can coexist and I hope the Inquisition will take steps to ensure that will happen.”

“You sound a lot like Cass,” she replied with a grin.

Cullen chuckled. “She’s a remarkable woman, if not perhaps a bit blunt in her expression.”

“If she’s made Divine, can you imagine what that would be like?” Catlyn snorted. “She’ll be the first Divine to knock a man out for coming to her with ridiculous pleas. She has zero tolerance for ineptitude and self-righteousness. Half of the supplicants to the sunburst throne fall into that category, if not more, if you ask her. It’ll be a fighting pit in no time,” she snickered. Cullen couldn’t help but laugh himself. The Seeker’s reputation was rather well-established in that regard and many of his recruits could attest to having been at the receiving end of her displeasure on more than one occasion. But he was reluctant to let her change the subject so quickly and pursued her line of thought once more.

“But what about you? After all this time you must have a few opinions of your own developed.”

Catlyn fiddled with the covers as she considered his question. “I think any organization of people, no matter under what auspices, will try to seek power and domination as a means of protecting their foundation at the exclusion of others. That even though it would be ideal to let mages have the choice to either remain in a Circle or live freely as Fiona would have them do should the College of Enchanters be reinstated, ultimately one side will feel threatened by the other and tensions will rise to a breaking point once more. Then we will be back where we started again, with no one trusting the mages and everyone feeling that they need to be kept under lock and chain in order to survive peacefully.”

“So you would force a choice? All or nothing?”

Catlyn sighed. “I don’t know, Cullen. I haven’t quite figured out where my beliefs lie just yet. I try not to dwell on it so much knowing that we all have a bigger problem to face in Corypheus and that the debate is moot should he succeed. Every once in a while though I allow my thoughts and wander and then I end up tumbling down the never-ending spiral of self-doubt and uncertainty.” At this her eyes welled up and she sniffed back the tears that threatened to puddle over. He wiped her eyes with his thumb and let his hand wander down her side so that it gently rubbed her exposed arm.

“One step at a time then, love. Why not allow yourself to think about some more personal things following Corypheus’s defeat?”

“Like what?” she sniffed and looked at him through glossy brown eyes.

“Well,” he cleared his throat and began awkwardly. “You woke up one day and had this thrust upon you. I can’t imagine you pictured your life going in this direction. I just wondered, now with everything the way it is…” he looked about embarrassedly, heaving a sigh and relenting as her narrowed eyes caught his. “You aren’t bound to your position for life. Will you stay on as Inquisitor? Will you stay here…” he trailed off, the words catching in his throat.

“With you?” she finished for him. He swallowed deeply and nodded. Her face relaxed in a slow smile and she slid over on the bed, snaking her arms around his neck. “Inquisitor or no, there isn’t a place in all of Thedas that I would rather be than in your arms.” He exhaled slowly and hooked an arm around her waist.

“Even after everything? After everything that may have changed after I…” he trailed off again. Maker but he was one big coward under it all, he chastised himself.

“A thousand mages and Templars, darkspawn and demons couldn’t keep me away from you,” she whispered in his ear and nipped gently at his lobe, eliciting a small shudder from him. He gripped her waist little tighter in response. He hated himself for still doubting but somehow it helped every time knowing that her feelings never changed.

“Imagining my world without you now… I just can’t”, he admitted as he pressed his forehead against hers. She cupped his face with one hand and tilted her head slightly and brought him in for a kiss. It was chaste and sweet and full of all the emotions both of them let rush between them without saying a word. They lingered there for a while longer, simply enjoying one another, before Catlyn reluctantly leaned back with a sigh.

“Josie’s back. We’re to meet in the war room before noon, which means we’re probably already late,” she smirked sadly. Cullen considered their options quickly before making an executive decision. He rolled over her under the covers and propped himself up on his elbows as he leaned down and peppered her exposed neck and chest with little kisses.

“It would be rude of us to keep them waiting, but since we already have… What’s a little more time?” Catlyn’s surprised laugh made him grin as he worked his way down her chest, bunching up her nightshirt into his fist around her collarbone. Her gasp broadened his grin as he continued his ministrations and soon her feeble protests turned to desperate pleas for more.

___

Sadly, despite the quick forgiveness of their tardiness by their companions, it seemed time was not on their side. It rarely was, but now more than ever it was obvious. No sooner had Josephine returned and the War Council convened that they were faced with the ultimate confrontation. The party stared at one another as the ground rumbled beneath them, then out the windows at the sky that once again swirled above the Frostbacks in a green maelstrom of fury.

“Corypheus,” Catlyn breathed as she held up her hand, the crackling green beneath the skin responding in kind to the mass of clouds spinning around like a vortex in the sky.

“He did that again? Why?” Leliana asked, bewildered. It appeared the wannabe god was still intent on opening a path to the heavens directly, though how he had amassed enough power to do so again was beyond any explanation.

“Either I close the breach again or it swallows the world,” Catlyn replied firmly, her eyes narrowed and jaw set determinedly. 

“But that is madness! Wouldn’t that kill him as well?” Josephine gasped. No one spoke for a moment as reality sunk in. It was clear from the events at the Temple of Mythal that Corypheus’s ability to carry his soul into the body of someone else significantly reduced the likelihood of him dying. In his madness it seemed he was willing to risk anything to ascend the path of godhood.

Cullen didn’t like these odds, though. God or not, he was still a powerful magister and he didn’t relish the idea of Catlyn facing him alone. “We have no forces to send with you,” he began, a quiet, desperate plea that he knew would be ignored even as he started but couldn’t help himself. “We must wait for them to return from the Arbor Wilds. They aren’t far, perhaps a day’s hard march away.”

“He might be expecting that, but I suspect he cares not,” Catlyn replied. She met his eyes in silent apology. All this time they knew this was the ultimate risk, the final test that she alone must face but now that it was here, it was like reality had stabbed him in the gut and drained all life from him as he stood and watched helplessly, unable to do a thing while his life gushed forth beneath his eyes. It was like torture, not being able to do anything to help, but he vowed not to make it any harder for her by objecting.

“We’ll move quickly as a small group. If we leave now we’ll make it to Haven by nightfall. I won’t have further lives risked for this madness. It won’t do any good as it is- we all know what it is he wants. Let him have it,” she said in grim determination. 

“Maker watch over you, Inquisitor,” Josephine murmured as silence fell over them. Catlyn nodded and shot Cullen one last sorrowful look before turning and leaving the chamber, Morrigan close on her heels. The door closed with a loud bang and for a time only its echoes sounded in the room.

“If she truly is Andraste’s chosen one, she will prevail in this battle,” Leliana declared solemnly, her gaze never leaving the breach.

“Even after everything that happened at Adamant, do you still believe that, Leliana?” Josephine inquired, her eyes staring softly at her friend. Leliana simply nodded and turned to leave.

“It was a spirit who guided her that day, Josie. A spirit that could have been sent by someone very powerful,” she replied. As she reached the door, she paused and looked back at her friend. “I have faith.” With a small smile, she opened the door and left the room.

Josephine sighed and gathered her papers, shuffling them about on her clipboard haphazardly. “Despite her cold, calculating ways, it’s nice to see that some things never change,” she said aloud to no one in particular. Giving a curt nod to Cullen, she too left the chamber. At once Cullen was left alone to his own thoughts. Though he knew she was right, he somehow believed he would have felt better had she gone in to face Corypheus with an army at her back. Some good it had done her at Adamant when she had fallen into the chasm along with the dragon, saved only by her own power. Or like at Halamshiral when she defeated the duchess without so much as an Inquisition honour guard there to assist her. He comforted himself instead knowing that the Seeker and Dorian would be by her side, along with her other trusted companions, though it pained him to think that one of them, if not more, could be lost as well. He prayed to the Maker that this was not their day to fall.

He pulled himself together and made his way out of the keep and towards the stables, hoping to catch her one last time before she headed off. By the time he came around the corner to the stables, he saw Catlyn giving her mother one last hug before she swung herself up into the saddle. He noticed Sera and Varric speaking in hushed murmurs near the stables and Blackwall was also saddling up his mount. Master Dennett was leading two mounts out for Dorian and Bull, and Cassandra and Lady Morrigan were already mounted and riding beside Catlyn. The trio approached him and Cullen saluted them.

“The winds are low despite the breach, Inquisitor. You should have no trouble making it through the pass. Corypheus hid an army on us once before but I vowed never to let that happen again. Scouts have not seen any signs of the Red Templars since leaving the Arbor Wilds,” he informed her, gathering as much of his strength as he could around him in a show of support.

“Thank you Commander,” she replied with a nod. Their eyes met and a thousand goodbyes passed between them, each one more painful than the last. Never before had he wished for something more in his life than to see her alive once more. He could only hope that Andraste would take pity on him and carry her back safely into his arms again.

He could hear footsteps coming behind him as Dorian and Bull approached. “We’ll take good care of our girl, Commander,” Dorian murmured as he walked passed, giving him a quick slap on the shoulder as he walked by. He knew they would, he just hoped it would be enough this time as it had been the last.

As he stood and watched the group ready to leave, Helena came and stood at his side. Once ready, Catlyn saluted and the others followed. Cullen returned the gesture, pressing his balled fist tightly against his chest to prevent his beating heart from flying out of his ribcage. He stood solemnly and watched them disappear through the gates, memorizing every last step as if somehow he could will it to reverse and return her safely to him.

“You would think each time would get a little easier, but somehow it seems it’s harder,” Helena sighed. Cullen nodded in agreement.

“I can barely breathe let alone think when she’s gone,” he whispered quietly to the woman.

“As a parent you get used to having part of your heart run around outside of you, always risking your life and filling you with joy all at the same time. It’s quite remarkable, really, how resilient a person can be when faced with that pressure. I suspect however that having half your soul going about doing the same thing would bring an equally high level of discomfiture,” she remarked softly, allowing her cool fingers to intertwine in his own in a comforting way. He gave them a gentle squeeze in return and the pair of them stood staring at the void Catlyn left in companionable silence, each one providing the other with the support only someone whose world hung so precariously in the balance could allow. Together they leant each other support as they patiently awaited their fate and that of the world.


	65. The Final Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catlyn faces Corypheus.

Catlyn braced herself against the broken pillar as Corypheus’ red beam blasted through the circle. The rumble of shockwaves sent through the levitated temple resonated through her fingers down to her toes and she squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to block out the feeling. She sat panting as the light finally subsided and her eyes quickly scanned the battleground. She could just make out Bull’s horns from around the pillar and breathed a small sigh of relief to see them moving about, readying for the next attack. She couldn’t see Cass or Dorian, but a familiar cackle broke through the air as Dorian unleashed a fireball at the weakened darkspawn. 

With the dragon defeated, Catlyn could sense Corypheus’s despair growing. The sheer power caged up inside the monster had been extraordinary and she found herself sending several silent prayers to Morrigan for having significantly weakened it before they set upon it. She hoped that it hadn’t cost the woman her life, but judging by the challenges the witch had met before and survived, Catlyn figured the odds were good that she had overcome the ordeal. Being bound to an elven goddess had to help some, right?

Catlyn waited as Corypheus engaged Dorian’s attack before she darted out from her hiding spot cloaked; though she knew it wouldn’t be long before the darkspawn would sense her. No matter, she just needed to get close enough to distract him and hope that either Bull or Cassandra was able to position themselves and catch the creature unaware from behind. It had been their latest strategy in defeating the enemy, a slight modification of their earlier divide and conquer routine when the damn thing wouldn’t stay still long enough for any of them to make a coordinated attack. Frustrating wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the irritation she felt in facing down the evil magister.

As she drew within metres of Corypheus, he spun and turned on her, unleashing a blast that nearly knocked her back a hundred paces had she not anticipated the move and dove off to take cover by an errant boulder. As it were, her legs were tossed back, causing her to fall awkwardly on her side. She hissed and clutched her ribs and brought her knees up protectively over her abdomen. Luckily, the distraction worked and Cassandra had managed to slip behind Corypheus unaware. He cried out in pain as her broadsword sliced across his backside before knocking her away like a rag doll. Catlyn gasped as Cassandra landed in an unmoving heap. One by one her friends were falling down around her. How many others would suffer at the hands of this evil creature if she didn’t do anything to stop it? 

Corypheus let out a growl, his eyes a red inferno of lyrium-infused rage, and reached out above him at the glowing orb hovering above his head. “Not like this!” he yelled. “I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages!” He pulled the orb down into his fist, struggling to control its power and the swirling mass of magic that twirled beneath his twisted skin. “Dumat! Ancient ones, I beseech you! If you exist, if you ever truly existed, aid me now!”

Catlyn staggered to her feet as she felt the pull of the anchor beneath her hand, calling her, begging her to move forward and not give up. With every last bit of strength she had, and pulling on whatever she could of the mark, she reached out and willed the orb to her. Corypheus cried out as the orb flew through the air to land in orbit around her mark. He stumbled and sank to his knees before her and for the first time in the battle, Catlyn was filled with a surge of triumph. This was it. They had paid a heavy price and had they failed, the entire world would have fallen under the heinous scourge of Corypheus and his Red Templar army. But Catlyn could sense it- they had not failed, she had not failed, and this was the time to end it once and for all.

She looked up towards the sky that bled green and raised the orb towards the heavens as she called forth the magic that flowed through her and the mark and willed the breach to be closed. An emerald column of energy burst forth from the combined powers and surged into the middle of the swirling hole in the sky, flooding her body with energy and pushing her away from its centre with its force. She could feel the tear knitting itself together through her power and closed her eyes to imagine what a repaired sky would look like, picturing something whole and pure instead of vile and abused. Suddenly it stopped and the clouds stilled, as if nothing had ever happened- except Corypheus remained kneeling in front of her, ragged and worn but not yet dead enough for her.

Catlyn let the orb fall aimlessly from her hand as she staggered up to the pathetic creature. On his knees, he didn’t look nearly as intimidating as he did before.

“You wanted into the Fade?” she goaded him as she came to stand right in front of his desperate husk of a body. She barely registered the rocks that had begun to rain down around her as she reached out towards him and activated the anchor, opening a rift inside of his body and watching as his red eyes were washed away by a bright green light, with more and more beams bursting forth from between his exposed ribcage, ears, and mouth before he exploded into a thousand fragments of pulsating brightness. Catlyn staggered back as the darkspawn was pulled into the abyss of the Fade, never to be seen again, yet never to be forgotten.

Catlyn stumbled as the ground lurched beneath her and she fell to her knees as the ground gave way. The spell that kept them suspended in the air had broken with Corypheus’s death and all around her boulders and chunks of stone were falling down. She gasped and braced herself on the ground, flattening her body in a feeble attempt to grip something solid as she felt the world melting away. She tried to crawl towards one of the fallen pillars in a vain attempt to shelter herself from the torrent of debris pouring down around her and had almost reached its side when she cried out in pain as a rock the size of an infant crashed down on her side. She curled up in a fetal position, barely breathing, as the pain raced down her side and across her abdomen. Little white lights appeared before her eyes as her vision blurred. Her heart beat so wildly she was certain it would burst.

Suddenly, as quickly as it had started, it stopped. The sky was calm and the ground was as solid as a rock. Catlyn lay there panting, clutching her arms around herself protectively yet unable to move. Everything about her hurt but there was one thing in particular that stabbed at her heart.

“Take no direct hits to the abdomen or fall from any great height,” her mother’s words echoed in her mind. She had done both, of course, and knew in an instant that she would do it all over again if it meant saving all of Thedas from the terrors Corypheus would have unleashed upon them, but that didn’t provide any solace in that moment. 

She looked down at her quivering hands and could see they were covered in blood. Hers? Her head hurt and she was certain her sides were aflame, but was that the extent of it? She tried desperately to pull away the armour that clung in ragged strips to her sides but her hands were shaking so violently now she could barely lift them let alone unleash the strappings of her armour.

“Catlyn?” she heard Dorian call out for her but all she could do was try feebly to turn in the direction of his calls. Mercifully her friend spotted her and came rushing over to her side, dropping to his knees as he took her hand in his.

“Fasta vaas,” he hissed as his eyes assessed her crumpled form quickly. “You’re alive! You’re a terrific mess, but by the Maker, you’re alive!” he exclaimed. “We need to get you to a healer and quickly-”

“Dorian please,” she croaked out, clutching his hand tightly and pulling him down towards her with what little strength she still possessed. “Is it…? Is it gone?” she begged, her eyes welling up with unbidden tears. He looked at her with a mixture of relief and exultation.

“Of course he is! You did it! Corypheus is gone, banished to whatever corner of the Void you picked out for him. I do hope it was especially vile with lots of sharp pointed objected for him to land on.”

Catlyn shook her head and didn’t relinquish her grip. “No, is it… is it gone? Is it gone Dorian, can you tell? Please, can you tell me?” she pleaded, sliding her other hand up to her belly protectively. Surely she would know if it was gone? But the pain was everywhere, it was so hard to tell…

“What are you talking about? Is what gone? Catlyn, why are you crying, what’s going on?” he replied, concern evident on his soot-smudged features. Catlyn bit back a sob and reached out for one of his hands and slowly, with great struggle brought it down to her stomach. Her brown eyes looked at him beseechingly and for a moment Dorian didn’t register what she was asking, but the dawn of realization slowly broke and his shoulders slumped a little.

“Catlyn, my darling, you can’t be serious,” he breathed, looking down at her incredulously. “I- I’m not sure I know how to tell,” he began helplessly.

“Please Dorian, I need to know.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks now and her friend gently brushed them away. He looked at her helplessly, then slowly nodded his head and knotted his brow in concentration. He brought his hands gently down to her lower belly and hovered over her. She could feel a slight prickle of magic as Dorian pushed out his senses in search of whatever lie beneath her bloodied skin. She watched his face as he struggled to make sense of what he was doing.

“Venhedis, I’m not sure what I’m- wait!” Catlyn held her breath as her friend gasped and froze. Seconds felt like an eternity and she was sure she was facing a fate worse than Corypheus in that moment. She had tried so hard to steel herself for the likely chance that the baby would never survive what battles she had to go through and that any hope of having a family of her own with Cullen could never have the chance of surviving in this world. But despite her many efforts to banish the desirous feelings, their tiny tendrils had taken root deep within her heart and she knew that if she had lost it, they would shrivel up and die and a little part of her would forever too.

“It’s so small,” Dorian breathed, “Maker, is it supposed to be so small? Andraste’s flaming knickers, this is not my area of specialty!” he cursed but he allowed a small smile to form, which brought a surge of hope unbidden to Catlyn’s heart. “I can feel it… pulsing… A little blip, happily surrounded by a safe little bubble. Maker preserve me, I sound like Cole,” he giggled wildly and looked up at her. Catlyn barked out a laugh and squeezed his hands tightly.

“So it’s ok?” she croaked, desperate to allow herself the dream.

“Yes! Yes, I think it is! Damnit Catlyn, you foolish woman, what were you thinking?!” he cried out to her and pulled her closely, releasing her slightly when she let out a whimper of pain from the throbbing that still wracked her side. “How long have you known this? Why didn’t you tell me? Does Cullen know? No of course he doesn’t, foolish twit, why would you have said anything when you had this to face,” he waved his hand about the rubble surrounding them. He fumbled in his robe pockets and pulled out a vial. “Here, take this, you’ll need it if you have any chance of making it to a healer in time to look at your side. Right mess you are,” he said as he gently poured the contents down her throat. Catlyn swallowed gratefully and relaxed slightly, a gleeful chuckle bubbling out of her as she reached up and swept away the tears from her cheeks. It was still ok. She still had a chance. They had a chance.

“Can you stand?” he asked her and sat back on his haunches to allow her to grip his hands and hoist herself up to a seated position. From there she gingerly turned her leg out to brace herself to stand, wincing as her ribs burned like hot metal beneath her skin. 

“I think my ribs are broken,” she whispered as she forced herself to a standing position, bracing herself against Dorian who put his arm around her waist to prevent her from toppling over.

“If you can manage, we can go back a ways to the supply cache we found hidden amongst the rubble by the stairs. I’m sure I saw a few more healing draughts there. That could tide you over until we get back to camp.” She nodded and the pair slowly made their way towards the exit. She stopped abruptly before they reached the top of the staircase.

“Wait! The orb,” she said and turned back towards the final battle ring where she had stood in defiance of Corypheus’ final stand. She was surprised to see Solas standing alone, hunched over what looked to be broken pieces of the orb. She motioned for Dorian to stay where he was and slowly, though it caused her a fair amount of pain despite the effects of the small draught Dorian had given her, she staggered back towards her companion. He looked forlornly at the dark pieces of stone in his hand, a deep sadness etched into his fine features.

“I’m so sorry, Solas,” she apologized to her friend. She knew the orb had meant a great deal to him, though it always caused her wonder whether he was withholding something from her. “I know you wanted the orb intact.”

“So much has been lost,” he replied in a hushed tone, a heavy sadness weighing down his soul. 

“Can it be fixed?” she asked, though she knew the answer even before he shook his head. Silence stretched on between them as each stood mourning the loss in very unique ways. Finally, he looked up at her and his deep, soulful eyes met hers and whispered their own apology before he registered her awkward stance.

“You are hurt,” he stated and took a step towards her. “I can see to your wounds, Inquisitor.” She nodded gratefully at him and closed her eyes as a coolness washed over her like a cleansing balm. She could feel the pain ease and her bones knit together seamlessly as his healing magic worked its way through her. As he finished, she let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you. I feel much better now,” she breathed a sigh of relief and smiled warmly at him, though her eyes widened slightly at the curious look her gave her.

“It is not my place to provide such advice, but I would caution you to be more careful in the future, Inquisitor. Someone in your condition should not be engaging in battles such as these.” The knowing look her gave her sent gooseflesh prickling up her skin.

“Am I still in that condition, then?” 

“It would appear so.”

Catlyn hesitated slightly. “You’ll keep my secret a while longer then?”

“I am a keeper of many secrets, Inquisitor. Yours is no less than the others.” Catlyn nodded in thanks and inside did a little dance of joy. Having Dorian fumble his way through was comforting enough, but having an experienced opinion like Solas’s was even more reassuring.

“Shall we join the others then?” she asked, turning to go. Solas looked down at the orb once more.

“I would like another moment alone, if it would please you,” he replied with a curiously sad look on his face.

“Of course Solas, see you soon though, yeah?” she replied. Solas merely quirked his lips in a little smile and Catlyn got the very odd sensation that there was something more at play here. She continued to walk back towards Dorian who stood waiting for her patiently by the stairs. She glanced back once at Solas and watched him as he knelt by the orb, mourning his loss in solitude, and somehow felt that this was more of a goodbye than see you later.

She reached Dorian who smiled warmly at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Ready?” he asked. She nodded her head and smiled.

“Let’s go home.”

\----  
The crowds were celebrating and their welcome was heartfelt by the time Catlyn and her companions strode through the gates to Skyhold. As embarrassing as it all was, Catlyn was proud to walk among the soldiers, mages, former Templars and Inquisition members who stood behind her the entire way. She was their leader and a proud one at that: the Inquisition had battled against all odds to emerge triumphant and she hoped everyone felt as fulfilled and victorious as she did then.

Josephine, Leliana and Cullen waited for her on the steps leading to the keep. She greeted the ladies with polite yet familiar bows before rushing into the arms of her commander, ignoring any formalities and protocol she may be expected to observe. The gatherers below whooped in encouragement, the loudest of which she was certain were her own companions, as she smothered Cullen in a hundred kisses of love, devotion and relief. 

“That’s quite the welcome wagon,” he laughed as she clung fervently to him. She pulled back slightly and returned his smile with an equally bright one of her own. She longed to share the news with him- it had been the only thing on her mind since leaving the Temple- but this was an intimate moment she wished to share only with him, so she held back and instead poured her love for him through her gaze.

“What is it?” he asked, eyebrow raised as he looked at her curiously. She shook her head and smiled.

“Ask me again later,” she replied with a grin. He tilted his head to the side but said nothing, instead following her as she turned to wave once more to the gathered crowds before continuing the rest of the way into the keep.

There was only one other person that she couldn’t wait to see and she was waiting for her in the entrance to the grand hall. Catlyn’s mother stood waiting for her, tears of joy welled up in her eyes. Catlyn rushed forward to meet her embrace, letting out a small sob of her own as she wrapped her arms around her mother’s familiar frame.

“I’m so proud of you Catlyn,” she whispered to her daughter, squeezing her as if she were testing her existence. “No matter the outcome, I’ve never felt such pride as I did when I watched you march out of here to stand up against that horror. I’ve never felt fear quite like that either,” she laughed as she pulled back to meet her daughter’s eyes, “but what you did, what you stood up for… The world will never forget your sacrifices.”

Catlyn swallowed hard. Her mother never shied away from telling her how much she loved her, but hearing these words from her touched Catlyn in a way she had never known. “Thank you,” she whispered and squeezed the woman tightly once more. 

The next several hours were spent in revelry, soldiers, advisors, companions and Inquisition members alike joining each other in every hall and corner of Skyhold. Donatien had outdone himself and put on a feast worthy of the finest royalty Thedas had to offer. Josephine has fussed over the preparations for the event, even going so far as to try and get a caterer in from Val Royeaux at the last minute, but Catlyn insisted that was not necessary. “No one will remember the petit fours in the morning, Josie,” she joked with her advisor but it took some convincing to ensure Josephine’s satisfaction.

One by one she made the rounds to her friends, chatting and reminiscing about all the adventures they had embarked upon in the past couple of years. Vivienne would be returning to Val Royeaux shortly, which was to be expected, to begin rebuilding efforts for the Circles. Catlyn wasn’t sure how she felt about the mage’s position on the matter but for the time being, she was polite and encouraged her to champion mage rights, regardless of how they were organized. 

Blackwall (Thom) was setting out to join the Wardens shortly, planning to undertake his joining at the soonest opportunity. He had been a stalwart companion throughout it all, despite the deception, and she was genuinely sad to see him go (though she wondered if perhaps Josephine would bear the bigger share of disappointment). 

Though he promised not to leave quickly, Catlyn knew that Varric would be heading back to Kirkwall soon enough. The grand hall wouldn’t be the same without his familiar presence and Catlyn found herself mulling over the idea of making a trip out to the Free Marches and visiting her estate. Ostwick was, after all, not far from Kirkwall. It would be an easy stop to make and catch up with her friend once he left.

Morrigan planned on leaving with Kieran within a fortnight. Catlyn extricated a promise to keep in touch from the woman, just as Grace has managed to do the same from Kieran. The pair had grown quite close during their time spent together at Skyhold and Catlyn had a feeling that she would be seeing the girl much more in the rookery in the near future.

With Cassandra also set to take the Sunburst Throne and Solas missing in action, it felt as if her world were crumbling around her just as quickly as she had saved it. Even her mother would likely be leaving for Val Royeaux to join Gaspard once everything had settled down. She had, after all, made a promise to the Emperor. It would not be wise to begin breaking vows as quickly as she made them. She took some solace in the fact that her advisors were among those to remain, along with Dorian and Bull, the Chargers, and even Sera. She suspected the elf would come and go often enough, needing to keep in touch with her network of friends and such, but at least she could expect her to return. Still, everything would be different now, she knew that deep down and it made her melancholy despite the merriment surrounding her. Perhaps it was the hormones, she mused.

This of course reminded her that she still hadn’t found a moment alone to speak with Cullen. She scanned the room quickly but couldn’t see his familiar curls overtop the crowds that pushed in around her. It was getting late and her adrenaline rush from the victory had subsided hours ago, leaving her weary and nearly dead on her feet. She surreptitiously slipped away through the crowds and into the stairwell leading to her chambers, shutting the door quietly behind her. She leaned against it and sighed, letting the events of the past hours settle around her. It was done. The breach was closed, Corypheus gone, and the world safe from his threat. There were still challenges to face- the Mage-Templar war had not yet been decided and reports still came in of rift sightings, but for now, she enjoyed the comfort of the calm.

She made her way up to her chambers and began disrobing, sighing in relief as she shook off her boots and eased out of her armour. Why she hadn’t thought to change beforehand, she didn’t know, but it was a gorgeous feeling to be free from the weight. She reached for her robe and slipped it on, but left it open at the front as she stood in front of her full length mirror. She twisted slightly and turned to the side, examining her form. Months of travelling and fighting had kept her shape lithe and toned, yet to her eye, there was a softness to her belly that wasn’t there before. She placed a hand gingerly on her lower abdomen and smiled secretly to herself. I will always protect you, she thought to herself. From now on, you will come first.

“It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it?” Catlyn gasped and spun around to catch Cullen leaning over the bannister, drinking in her sight. She instinctively covered herself up and blushed, feeling as if she had been caught in the act. He chuckled and made his way over to her. “Modesty? Now? That’s interesting,” he mused, his eyes imbued with a predatory glare. 

“I didn’t think anyone was watching,” she mumbled embarrassedly. 

“I saw you slip away and hoped you wouldn’t mind the company,” he purred, reaching out and snaking an arm around her waist to pull her near. “We haven’t really had the chance to properly celebrate your victory- alone,” he stressed with a smirk. The idea of losing herself to his touch was decidedly tempting, but she knew if she didn’t come forward with it now, the risk of him learning from another source would be too great.

“Cullen, I need to talk to you about something,” she began and trailed off, clearly flustered at how to approach the matter. She hoped he would be excited- no, she knew he would be thrilled- but she just worried that he wouldn’t be quick to forgive the secrecy.

Cullen’s eyes widened and he dropped his arm and took a step back, stammering. “Of course, I’m sorry, it was presumptuous of me to think- I mean, we talked about what might happen afterwards, but obviously everything is different and real now, and that changes things,” he blabbered on, obviously embarrassed by his forwardness.

“No Cullen, it’s nothing like that,” she protested, drawing him near again. “Well not really anyways. It’s not what you think. Oh balls, I’m no good at this,” she sighed and dropped her head, shaking it slightly before looking up at him again. “You and I- we’re in this together, right?”

“Of course,” he breathed, a slight look of anguish marring his handsome features. “I meant it when I said I would pledge my life to you, no matter what we face.”

Catlyn bit her lip and hesitated for a second. “You would forgive me if I kept something from you, even though I did it thinking it was in your best interests?”

Cullen frowned but was quick to respond. “I know you would never do anything without good reason.” Catlyn nodded thoughtfully and took a deep breath.

“I didn’t want to say anything for fear that it would slip away like a beautiful dream in the morning, and I wasn’t sure what it might do to you if that happened.” She pulled at her robe sash and took his hands and placed them gently on the exposed skin of her stomach. “I know you said the price of the procedure was worth paying, but I know how much you want a family of your own…” she trailed off, hoping he would save her from finding the words that got stuck on her tongue. His eyes searched hers questioningly before they widened in realization. 

“No,” he breathed, staring down at her belly. “It can’t be.” Catlyn smiled timidly and nodded her head. His mouth opened and closed audibly, but nothing came out but air. “How? When? How could this be? I didn’t think it was possible!”

“Well, I’m pretty sure the how is relatively simple,” she smirked at him, to which he responded with a huff, “and the when I have pegged down to our rather vigorous celebrations at South Reach.” She waited as he processed the information and its meaning.

“Before I was healed,” he whispered. She nodded and could tell he understood the implications. “Maker have mercy. I can’t believe this. It’s- it’s too much to ask for.” His voice caught at the end and he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. “Is everything alright? I mean after your battles, Corypheus, the mark- will it be alright?”

“Solas assured me before we left the Temple that everything was fine. My mother has been taking care of me since I found out and I promise I haven’t taken any unnecessary risks- you know, above the obvious ones I didn’t have much choice in,” she smiled wryly and he laughed.

Catlyn let out a little sigh of relief. “So you forgive me then? For not telling you?”

“Forgive you? Maker’s breath Catlyn! I’m too overcome with joy to even care!” He reached up and cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her deeply. Catlyn could feel the tears rising and spill out from between her lashes, cursing herself and her hormonal body for being so Maker forsaken wet all the time.

“Marry me,” he murmured between kisses, his lips finding her cheeks, nose, and mouth once more. “I have no ring, I can get down on bended knee if you’d like, however you want it, just say you’ll be mine. I’ve nearly lost you more times that I can count but I refuse to let anything stand in my way now. Marry me. Marry me and I will give you my love and devotion from here until eternity.” Catlyn’s tears became sobs as she burrowed her face into his furry pauldrons, inhaling the familiar musk that was all his own.

“Cullen,” she whispered in his neck, unable to articulate the happiness that nearly knocked her off her feet. He pulled away slightly from her to catch her eyes and she met his and nodded. He cried out in joy, sweeping her off her feet and twirling her about the room. Their giddy laughter filled the chamber and spilled out into the night to be swept away into the mountains, bringing tidings of hope and promise to Skyhold and beyond.

\---  
They married in a private ceremony ten days later. Josephine was apoplectic when she learned that both Catlyn and Cullen insisted that it be kept to a small, private affair. Surely they understood the opportunity such a union presented for the Inquisition, she had argued. Nobles would be expected to attend, gowns would need to be designed and commissioned, and how could she ever get enough crystal ordered in time? Much to her chagrin, they remained firm. Their intent was to hold the ceremony before their friends dispersed to the many corners of Thedas and didn’t want to hold anyone up any longer than necessary. Josephine managed to at least convince them that they should wait for Emperor Gaspard to arrive, who was desperate to be reunited with Lady Damerell as it were. If the Emperor were to attend, then the King and Queen of Fereldan would also have to be invited. It may have escalated from there but somehow they managed to enforce their wishes. In truth, it gave them time to send word to Ostwick so that Emeric could make arrangements to attend as well as to Calon to send word to Mia and the rest of the Rutherford clan. 

Vivienne, Josephine and, surprisingly, Cassandra all ganged up on Catlyn and insisted that a gown be made. There wouldn’t be time to send for a proper tailor so the best seamstress in Skyhold was summoned and under the watchful eye of her mother, along with some creative enchantments thanks to Dagna, a dress fit for a queen was designed and sewn. It was simple and tasteful, not at all like the outlandish dresses Catlyn had seen on some Orlesian fools, and Dagna had woven in some mysterious runes that made it shimmer like a thousand snowy crystals were wrapped up in the fabric. Grace wove the hair on her crown into an elaborate mess of braids and plaits while the back hung down like a veil cresting the top of her backside. 

Mother Giselle presided over the ceremony and Emeric walked her down the aisle. Her mother and Dorian stood as witnesses for them and Grace scattered little embrium petals on the aisle. Cullen stood waiting for her in a suit of full armour, trading in his furry mantle and Templar gear for a coat of silverite arms that shone brighter than the sun. They looked every bit the fairytale story and when their union was confirmed, the bells could be heard ringing halfway across Thedas. No one could foresee the future that was in store for the Inquisition, nor where their journeys would take them. The one thing they knew for certain is that it would never be done without the other by their side and for them, that was all that really mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrynotsorry for the pure fluff.


	66. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years later, much has changed at Skyhold and it isn't over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay between the epilogue and the ending. I had been tossing around various ideas for the epilogue and they all got thrown for a loop when Trespasser was announced. I don't like to stray too far away from canon, so I needed to do a little research in order to figure out exactly how to approach this last piece of ATCF.  
> For those of you who have not yet played Trespasser, this does not provide spoilers of any import. Some foreshadowing, perhaps, but nothing more.  
> Thanks to everyone who followed Catlyn on her journey! I appreciate every single kudo and comment I received. They put some serious smiles on my face just when I needed them most.

The light had grown dark long ago but that didn’t stop him from flipping through the latest reports, his eyes slowly crossing the longer he spent staring at the curling letters on the page. Cullen sighed deeply and pressed the heel of his palms to his eyes. After this many years, one would think he would have learned when to call it a night; but despite the fact that there was no looming threat of world destruction or demon attacks, he still felt a deep rooted compulsion to solve every problem, every report as soon as it crossed his desk. Many still looked to the Inquisition as a saviour, a safe harbour they could turn to when everything else around them seemed hopeless and all remaining members took their role seriously. Certainly there were many others who were less enthusiastic about the young organization’s continued presence on the world scene, mindful of its strength yet suspicious of its influence. That wasn’t anything new to Cullen: he had spent years as a templar bearing the brunt of accusations and vitriol from mages to opponents of the Chantry and the experience prepared him well. Still, it was exhausting at times, especially now that their future was in question.

Cullen pushed back his chair and stood up from his desk, his spine creaking as it extended itself for the first time in what must have been hours. Vigilance, focus, endurance. No matter what the stakes, some things never changed for him, no matter the cost. In need of air, he walked out of his office and towards the battlements, stopping to overlook the valley below. There were significantly fewer lights now, two years after Corypheus’s defeat. In fact, the only ones that remained were of the torches that lit the entrance to the pathway that snaked up the side of the mountain towards Skyhold’s causeway. The thousands of flickering lights that used to dot the valley like fireflies in the night, signs of the refugees, soldiers, and merchants that sought refuge and a future at the Inquisition’s feet, were long gone. With Corypheus defeated, the peace in Orlais restored under Gaspard, and the mage-templar war at an effective stalemate, many people had returned home to various corners of Thedas, settling down and beginning new lives under the blanket of safety the Inquisition provided them. He had not been sad to see them leave: it brought him great pride in knowing that the Inquisition and he as a part of that had brought a measure of relief and hope to a land so torn apart by blights and wars and conflicts. Knowing that people were returning to a sense of normalcy on account of their actions was a victory sweeter than any other he had ever felt. 

Still, it was quiet at Skyhold.

Very few merchants still manned the stalls that once stood crowded and bustling, nobles and commoners alike vying for the best goods at the best prices. The small chantry in the garden barely saw a dozen worshippers a day, whereas before the pews were crowded to the point of discomfort. Cullen’s days used to be filled with review of guard rotations, debriefs on the status of ration stockpiles and requisitions, and endless nobles and leaders alike vying for the attention of the Commander of the Inquisition Forces. Now, the training yard was empty; the keeps they had captured held the barest minimum of forces, only enough to maintain the hold, keep peace in the area, and provide reconstruction efforts to those refugees who had returned home to start a new life; and in a typical day he received more indecent proposals from nobles than he did actual requests for assistance. Still, those letters of importance he did receive and the remaining troops and loyal followers that remained with the Inquisition mattered just as much as the masses that did before, and he took his position and work as seriously as when the threat of a fate worse than death loomed over their heads. He needed to feel like the sacrifices were all worth it.

A click of the door drew him from his silent reminiscing and Cullen turned his head to look over to where someone was emerging from his office. The slender frame, taller than it once was, was unmistakable to him, for she had been an important part of his life for the past eighteen months. He smiled knowingly and let out a resigned huff of breath as she approached.

“No luck I take it?” he asked with a smirk, exhaustion suddenly weighing on him heavily as soon as the duty called.

“I’m sorry Commander. He’s a bit unsettled these days. I’ve tried all the usual tricks but nothing seems to work,” the young woman replied apologetically.

“It’s alright. I think I know how he feels. I’ll take care of it. Get yourself to bed, it’s late already.” She nodded sheepishly and tipped her head in acknowledgment before retreating through the tower opposite his office towards the living quarters that had been restored further down the battlements for the remaining Inquisition members. With the numbers at Skyhold significantly reduced to the minimum required to maintain the fortress, the council felt that room should be found for everyone who called the place home within its walls. As a result, reconstruction efforts were completed and even a new tower built to house the additional numbers now that the camps down below had disbanded. Cullen took one last memory-filled look at the empty valley and turned to make his was back to the keep and to his own accommodations. 

The steps creaked under the weight of his armoured body. He had the option of wearing less formal attire around Skyhold now, especially since the nobles had all but deserted the fortress and he no longer felt the compulsion to have a thick layer of silverite and dales woolen cloth between him and their perfumed duplicity; but the familiar feel of his breastplate and mantle left with a sense of comfort and ease, more so than he would have felt without it. He began unfastening the straps of his armour even before he reached the top of the stairs and piled the items up carefully on the stand beside the divan before moving towards the source of his late night responsibility, taking great care to do so quietly so as to not cause alarm. The chamber was lit by the soft light emanating from the embers popping pleasantly in the hearth and the warmth they gave off filled the room with a coziness that cut through the chill of the early springtime night. Whereas the rest of Thedas might be enjoying warmer climes, summer came slowly on the long trails of spring in the Frostbacks and though the days were filled with a sunny melting, the night air still had a bite to it, which meant most of the windows and doors were kept shut at nighttime in order to keep in the heat from the day. 

The great king sized bed stood empty in the centre of the room, still made up from the previous night. Cullen hadn’t been able to sleep, spending most of the dark hours seated on the wing back chair in front of the fireplace until the sun broke over the mountain peaks and the scuttle of servants and scouts could be heard even from the highest peak of Skyhold. It was any wonder he was still standing, having had such little sleep over the past few weeks. The emptiness of the bed reminded him of the heavy weight he felt in his heart and somehow he couldn’t bring himself to curl up into it alone, despite the fact that his body screamed out desperately for respite.

The soft sound of whimpers and hiccups seized his chest as he made his way over to the much smaller bed that stood beside his. He frowned slightly as he approached the wooden rails, unable to see the source of the sad little noises. He peered over the side and his heart broke at the sight before him: curled up into a little ball was the sturdy body of his toddler, his tear-stained face evident in the moonlight. He was staring forlornly at the mobile that twirled idly in its suspension above him, the little stars that hung around the dimly lit sun twinkling softly. It was a gift from his uncle Dorian sent all the way from Minrathous, and the little one fell asleep every night watching it turn and flicker gently above him as he made his way happily into the Fade. Tonight, it seemed, even the reassuring presence of the mobile wasn’t enough to keep him happy.

He looked up at his father through amber coloured eyes with a serious yet heart-breaking stare, two little golden orbs that looked back at his just the way his mother’s had, despite their different shade of brown from hers. He fixated his father with a look that cried out for comfort and pushed himself up clumsily to a seated position as Cullen leaned down on his forearms on the crib rail. Little brown curls flopped despondently around his crown, framing his reddened cheeks and brow with little circles. 

“Mama?” he asked questioningly, his bleary eyes hopeful behind their glaze. Cullen winced and shook his head solemnly.

“No pup. Mama’s not here.” 

He stared up at his father with a stern expression and Cullen could see his lower lip tremble as he fought back a sob. The boy was stubborn (like his mother) and proud (like his father0 so he managed to keep his infantile composure and instead of collapsing into a fit of despair, held his chubby little arms out to him and said, “Dada.” The resignation with which he delivered his order didn’t bother Cullen. He knew where he stood in the heart of his child. It was at the very centre, almost directly in the core, wrapped around the middle in an unwavering embrace that kept it all together; and in that centre was love for his mother. It was one of the many important things the two of them shared.

After his birth, Catlyn put everything aside for him. Cullen had never seen such devotion towards another human as he witnessed when his wife set eyes upon her child. He thought he had felt something akin to that, but the bond that the pair shared, the bond of a life force, of a support and sustenance that one provided the other, was unlike anything he had seen before. He had very little recollection of his own relationship with his mother at that age but assumed it must have been something similar. It was very true what people had told them though: one never understands true love until they bear their own child into the world.

For six months she refused to leave his side, shunning the mounting piles of correspondence, requests and orders that continued to come their way. Leading up to the birth of their child, Catlyn had spent as much time as she could running (or waddling, as she disgruntledly put it) around Fereldan and Orlais closing rifts and seeing to the resettling of refugees throughout the land. She investigated disturbing reports from scouts and allies in the Frostback Basin, forming tentative ties with the reclusive Avaar people that had settled the region. Word from the Deep Roads of suspicious activity far below the surface had them all concerned and readying plans for travel. All of that came to a grinding halt when she was placed on bed rest weeks before they were expecting the birth of their child. The stress and toll the Inquisition was taking on Catlyn could no longer be ignored and she was forced to her bed on healer’s orders.

She complained at first, though Cullen suspected it was without real conviction for when the baby arrived she took to her new role with a renewed sense of vigour and purpose that Cullen hadn’t seen since they had crowned her Inquisitor. He also felt his heart expand to new bounds as he sat by and watched the two people he loved more than life itself grow and thrive with each day they spent together. Certainly it was not without its challenges: Cullen would never forget the early days weeks where both of them walked about it a constant state of sleep deprivation and confusion, uncertain whether to feel joy or cringe every time they heard their son’s wail pierce the nighttime air knowing how close they had come to never knowing the true meaning of the word family. In time, and with gentle words of encouragement and advice from Catlyn’s mother (who had returned from Halamshiral where she spent a great deal of time with the emperor), the midwives and, surprisingly, Josephine, who as the eldest in her family had gained a great deal of experience raising children through the charge of the care of the own siblings, they muddled their way through and found the new rhythm as a family of three. Cullen had never known happiness as he knew it then.

However, reality had a way of creeping back into the forefront of the mind, and soon enough the Inquisitor was needed to tend to pressing matters. Descents into the Deep Roads and further weeks spent in the Frostback Basin, among other obligations, had Catlyn spending more and more time away from Skyhold, a reality that did not go unnoticed by either Cullen or his son. When she was there she dedicated nearly every waking moment to the babe, taking him to advisory councils (they no longer called them war councils, given that Corypheus had been defeated and relative peace restored with the crowning of the new Divine Victoria) and insisting that she be there for mealtimes and bedtimes when her duties held her attention elsewhere during the day.

Cullen marvelled at her stamina and dedication despite the many pulls on her time, but even despite their best efforts, it was a far cry from the typical family life both had dreamed of when they were little. Their son wasn’t the only one to miss his mother and more often than not Cullen found the void left in her absence to be a dull ache that grew in its intensity with each passing day she was gone. He knew that in dedicating himself first to the Order and then the Inquisition, there was very little chance of him ever knowing the kind of family life he had enjoyed as a child. The days spent in comfortable company working the farm and homestead, mealtimes filled with laughter and teasing, and quiet evenings spent together in front of the fire sharing stories of the day were but a dream he held close to his heart, unwilling to give up just yet on its realization. The truth was the fairy tale upbringing he had couldn’t be repeated so long as he was commander, nor Catlyn as Inquisitor. He had acknowledged his fate long ago and was forever grateful that he could even call anyone at all family the way he could with the two of them. When he was suffering from lyrium withdrawal, and after what he went through in order to overcome it, he didn’t even think he could ever have a child, let alone the family of his dreams. He thanked Andraste every day for blessing him with what he had and he didn’t want to be ungrateful for what he was given. Still, it was hard to fight back the weariness he felt and keep the dreams of a normal family life from creeping into his thoughts and driving him to despair.

He leaned over and picked up the little boy and pulled him close to him, holding him firmly but gently to his chest and nestled his face into his chair. It smelled like honey and grass, just like his mother, and a little touch of cinnamon remaining from the porridge he had managed to squish into his locks that morning, refusing a bath afterwards because Maker only knows what cleanliness could bring to a disgruntled toddler. Evidently nothing good, if his son’s reaction towards bathing was any indication. He cuddled the sad little boy in his arms and whispered gentle words to him.

“Mama misses you very much, you know that little pup. She’s gone to make sure you have a safe world to live in. There isn’t a day that goes by that she doesn’t think of you and misses you and I know she will do everything she can to come back soon,” he cooed softly, stroking his back and swaying slowly. 

He was rewarded with a sniffle and a muffled “Miss mama” as he buried his face into his neck. It was on nights like these that he found the duty the hardest. The nights where no matter how long Grace sang or read to him, no matter how long Cullen held him in his arms and rocked him back and forth, there was no mending the tear in his little boy’s broken heart. The longer Catlyn was away, the more frequent these nights became. Though she hadn’t been gone very long, her journeys away from Skyhold were coming more frequently as nobles in Fereldan began complaining more vocally of continued Inquisition presence within their borders and the Orlesians spoke of changes to the governance structure of the organization. Catlyn had very little time for either and sent Josephine in her stead as often as she could, but even their ambassador gently pointed out that it was the Inquisitor’s presence that was most needed on their expeditions. As a result, she found herself increasingly touring the Orlesian highways and Fereldan countryside, spending more time there than at Skyhold.

“Want to sleep in the big bed with me?” he offered, resorting to desperate measures in an attempt to get the little boy to bed. It wasn’t as if he was against sharing the bed with his son and neither was Catlyn. Nothing quite compared to the unbridled feeling of joy he felt waking up next to the two people he loved most in the world. It was just that his son appeared less enthusiastic in sharing the bed with him, promptly finding a way to expand his roughly two and a half feet of self in such a manner as to occupy the vast majority of the bed, leaving both Cullen and Catlyn as aspiring contortionists in their attempts to remain an occupant of said bed. However, he hadn’t been sleeping much as of late as it was, and he assumed that being the only adult in the bed there had to be a limit to how much space his son could truly occupy; so he allowed the indulgence if it meant the child might finally fall asleep.

His son kept his face buried in his neck but he could feel the nod of acquiescence easily against his skin. He moved over to the bed and leaned down to pull back the covers, all the while holding the little boy who clutched him as if he might disappear if he let go. He crawled into the middle of the bed and only then did the boy let go and settle himself down into the mattress while Cullen reached down and pulled back the covers tightly around them. He heard him sigh contentedly as he nestled down further into his father’s chest, wrapping one stubby little arm around it, his fingers barely making it over the side of his ribs but clutching tightly whatever he could grasp nonetheless. Cullen lay in the bed staring at the ceiling, holding his son close and listening carefully as his breathing slowed into a steady pace indicating that he had quickly fallen asleep. This brought a tired smile of satisfaction to Cullen’s face and for a moment he allowed himself to forget the Inquisition, forget the pile of work that would be loyally waiting for him the next morning, and forget the emptiness that stretched out beside the pair of them as they lay curled up into each other, offering the other comfort from the darkness the felt while Catlyn wasn’t there. As he thought of the things that were and may never be, he couldn’t even remember when he too fell into a deep, fast sleep.

When he awoke the sun had not yet broken the early morning skies, but even in the darkness he knew something was different. He shifted and looked beyond the small figure that still lay nestled as close to his father as he could get, successfully pushing him to the periphery of the mattress as his arms and legs sprawled out over and under Cullen all akimbo. A pair of familiar brown eyes stared back at him through the dimly lit room with so much love and warmth it was as if the sun was beaming back at him. His heart leapt into his chest in pleasant surprise, one of the realities of being married to a rogue.

He made to open his mouth in welcome but sleep remained vigilant in his throat and the words were held back by a rasping croak. Just as well: Catlyn held her finger to her lips and pointed down to the sleeping child that lay peacefully between them, blissfully unaware of what was taking place beside him. Cullen gently extricated the arm that was acting as the boy’s pillow and lay his head delicately down on the mattress then rolled away just as Catlyn tucked the covers in snugly around the little one’s sleeping frame. On soft feet, they padded out to the balcony, grabbing a quilt along the way and quickly slipping out before a gust of wind slipped past them. Cullen yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as Catlyn snaked her arms around his waist and whined in protest of the cold before he drew the quilt around them, bundling them close. She tilted her head up to look at him and smiled as he bent down and bid her both good day and welcome back with a tender kiss.

“I wasn’t expecting you back for another few days,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose with hers and breathing her in like it was the only air he needed.

“I convinced Josie that another night in that bann’s estate wasn’t going to change his mind no matter what she thought our approach to dealing with his dogs might have gained us in terms of goodwill.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Dogs?”

“You would know better than anyone, wouldn’t you?” she replied with a smirk. “The man surrounded himself with mabari. He treated the hounds as if they were his children. When we explained that our presence in Crestwood was not meant to be hostile, not only did we address him, we addressed the dogs as well. Josie thought that might gain us some favour as apparently even some of his closest friends aren’t so enamoured with their hounds as to treat them as equals at the negotiation table. He’s frequently ridiculed in noble circles though he appears wildly ignorant of that.”

“You can’t be serious!” he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What? Appalled that we don’t share the same views on dogs as your brethren? I knew you were thinking of getting a dog, Cullen, but I never thought it was because you felt we needed another advisor around the table.” 

Cullen laughed. “I admit I do not share the bann’s views on the suitability of dogs as political advisors,” he admitted with a grin. “I believe they make far better companions than counsellors.”

“I’m relieved to hear you say that, Commander. I was beginning to think you might have been looking to fill the vacancy left by Cassandra with a furry mutt instead.”

“I can’t imagine Divine Victoria appreciating that very much.”

“No, me neither. But enough talk of Fereldan and its deep-rooted love story with dogs. I missed you. Have I said that yet? How are you? I see someone was unable to sleep,” she said, her gaze falling upon the still-sleeping bump in their bed. “He’s grown again,” she added morosely, likely another reminder of all the moments she missed.

Cullen followed her gaze over to the bed. “He wasn’t the only one,” he murmured and the look she gave him was filled with guilt and sorrow, not what he meant to invoke on purpose. He knew she harboured an unhealthy share of culpability despite the situation being out of her control. It wasn’t any easier on her being away so often.

“A letter came for you from the Viscount and another from Vivienne. Leliana read both, of course, and mentioned something about Vivienne and a coveted spot at the baths. Any idea what that could mean?” he said in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the sadness that plagued both their hearts.

Catlyn crumpled her brow and shrugged her shoulders. “No clue. But if she said ‘coveted’ alongside Vivienne, I’m sure it’s something decadent and Orlesian, and definitely something I neither would like nor understand.”

Cullen chuckled. “You’re probably right. Dorian also sent along another crate of tomes for the little one. The note said that they were critical to his early education surrounding magic and its use in historically defining events.”

Catlyn snorted. “He’s taken his role as godfather a bit too seriously. He does realize he’s only a year and a half, right? And also not a mage?”

“That we know of. It’s a bit soon to tell.”

Catlyn looked at him beneath a very raised eyebrow. “Holding out hope, Cullen? I’ll admit, I’m surprised.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he rolled his eyes at her. “I’m just saying- Maker, I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s barely daybreak and I’ve just got my wife back. Dorian can take his books to the Void for all I care.”

Catlyn laughed and squeezed him closer. “Fair enough.”

Cullen returned the embrace and pulled the quilt tighter around them. “So it went well then? Or as well as could be expected given Fereldan’s hostile tone of late?”

Catlyn sighed and didn’t immediately respond, which meant things didn’t go quite as smoothly as they would have hoped. The Fereldans had been getting agitated for some time now, which was surprising given their good relationship with King Alistair. Cullen suspected a lot of it had nothing to do with Alistair and likely far more with the Queen and her small but loyal and very vocal band of followers. There was only so much Alistair could do to temper the views of his willful queen.

“I wish the other banns could be as good-natured as your sister. My trip through Calon was decidedly more enjoyable than this latest tour, even though I don’t think Mia has completely forgiven you for saddling her with that particular responsibility.”

“I don’t think it will last forever,” he murmured, resting his chin on her head. 

“Perhaps not, but she doesn’t quite see it that way. Although I got the impression on my last visit that Bran has been far more helpful as of late than before.”

“I thought so as well based on her last correspondence. Seems he’s finally growing out of his juvenile ways and taking some responsibility for once in his life.”

She snickered softly. Over the past two years, Mia had sent regular updates on the status of Cullen’s acquired bannorn. Apparently his brother had been less than helpful at first, spending most of his time making eyes at the various young noble ladies that passed through the estate. “Can’t be a widow forever,” he had complained, having lost his wife to illness some years prior. It infuriated Mia to no end that her brother spent more time chasing skirts than he did helping her with running the affairs and both Cullen and Catlyn had made several trips in the past years to diffuse the situation. It was good to know that he had finally seen some sense and was beginning to pull his weight.

“Anything else happen while I was away?”

“One of Leliana’s nugs got into Donatien’s larder again. He was halfway down the mountainside before I caught up with him and convinced him to stay. Incidentally, you may notice that his wages have seen a recent spike. I thought you would approve.”

Catlyn snorted and shook her head. “Oh Leli. That was possibly one of her worst plans ever. Nug messengers? It’s somewhere along the same vein as some of Sera’s hair brained schemes. You know, I wonder if she had anything to do with it. Seems she’s been very busy since leaving Skyhold,” she mused.

“She does seem to have a rather unhealthy obsession with shoes and nugs.”

Catlyn nodded and sighed. Despite the attempt at light-heartedness, he could tell from the tenseness in her shoulders and dark circles under her eyes that responsibility was weighing on her heavily again. He wished there was more he could do but politics and diplomacy was not his strong suit.

After a pause, she broke the silence. “Josie told me there really won’t be any chance avoiding this Exalted Council. Cass’s hands are tied. I suspect we will be leaving in a fortnight.”

The news was like a blow to his stomach. There had been talk of an Exalted Council being called by the Divine to discuss the fate of the Inquisition. They all knew that Divine Victoria had done everything she could to shield the Inquisition from talk and scrutiny but only she could go so far on her neutrality before the scales tipped away from their favour. As time went on, even Gaspard was proving to be unable to defend their existence despite his throne having depended on them to begin with. Now it seemed that the time had finally come to face down their opponents and defend what they all stood proudly for.

“So what does that mean then?” he asked.

“I don’t really know Cullen. I can’t pretend to understand it very well myself. This isn’t my game. I play it because I have to but not very well and I only muddle through thanks to Leliana and Josie. Leliana believes others are afraid of us, the power we wield, the influence we hold. I don’t really care about what they think, I just want the Inquisition to keep helping where it can, to keep peace and restore order.”

“Haven’t we done a lot of that already?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with her- he did, with all his soul. It was the reason he joined and the reason he stayed- because he wanted to help, return order, and maintain peace for everyone in the land. But he never held illusions of power and greatness. In the aftermath of Kirkwall it had been him that had held down the city and helped rebuild it but he never enjoyed the power it brought nor the attention. He was a soldier first and foremost and once the war was fought and won, his role was to remain vigilant but fade back into the background, not stay at the forefront leading the vanguard to new fronts and seeking new opportunities to gain influence and effect change. That wasn’t who he was and a small, selfish part of him wondered whether the Inquisition had reached its zenith months ago now and the time had come for them to watch the sunset and go home to rest.

Home to his family where they could spend their days together in peaceful happiness.

“We have,” she conceded slowly, “but it seems everywhere we turn someone else is looking for help or another fire needs to be put out. I just don’t know what would happen if we all woke up one day and decided to pack it in. Where would all the mages under our protection go? To the Circle or College? They’re still constantly bickering about how to best organize themselves and in the meantime innocent people get caught up in the crossfire.”

“The Chantry is stronger now than it was before. It won’t be long before they work these things out,” he argued gently.

“But there’s only so much Cass can do from the sunburst throne. So long as there remain people like Vivienne out there, mages will never find a way to effectively govern themselves in such a manner as to allow some measure of freedom. If they can’t, we will just end up back where we started again with an entire class of citizens under oppression. I just don’t know what to do,” she sighed, slumping slightly. Cullen ran his hands down her arms and gave them a gentle squeeze, encouraging her to look up at him.

“Nothing has been decided yet. So long as there is support for the Inquisition and reason for us to remain, that is what we will do.”

Catlyn stared back up at him with sorrow in her eyes. “And yet I can’t ignore the toll it takes. On you. Me. Us,” she added, looking over to the bed once again where the little mound shifted slightly. Cullen’s heart ached with sadness. He felt very much the same way but he knew she relied on him to keep her strong just as he had on her all those years ago when he was going through withdrawal. The self-doubt and criticism he plagued himself then with had nearly driven them apart and he would be forever thankful for her resilience and dedication to him despite his darker moments. He had vowed to show her the same courtesy and care and he wasn’t about to give up on that now.

“There is nothing in this world that could drive us apart. You know that, right? And this little man will love his mother no matter what happens. To him you walk on water and he’s strong, just like you are. We will endure,” he replied as he looked her in the eyes, promising with his stare to be the pillar of strength she needed as times grew tough. As if on cue, a happy squeal met them through the pane of the door. They turned to look inside with a smile as their little boy sat up happily on the bed looking out at them. Catlyn immediately turned and opened the door, dashing over to the bed and tumbling on it as she scooped the boy up in her arms. There were arms and legs kicking and squirming, and great peals of laughter coming up from the mess of blankets and pillows. Cullen closed the door behind him and smiled as he watched the happy reunion between mother and son. It was moments like these that filled his heart and allowed him to move forward, onwards and up one step at a time. Despite the hardship, despite the sacrifices and pain it brought, there wasn’t anything he was more thankful of than the two people that had made him whole again. He knew he would do anything for them, no matter what it took, so long as they were safe and happy.

“Dada, Mama’s home!” his son pointed to her proudly as he grinned foolishly under her adoring gaze. “Come play!” he cried. 

“Coming,” he replied with a grin, and as he made his way over to the bed, he felt like nothing could change the perfection of that moment. Not a single thing.

Well, perhaps a dog.


End file.
